


With you, I Will

by BookofSpells



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Ravenclaw Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13264485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookofSpells/pseuds/BookofSpells
Summary: Albus Potter had it all. Recently appointed Head Boy, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and devastatingly handsome. Yet Albus had a secret. A secret that he’d been hiding from everyone, including his family, for years.





	1. Chapter One

_**Albus** _

Albus Potter had it all. Recently appointed Head Boy, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and devastatingly handsome. At seventeen, he was already several inches taller than his father, with broad shoulders and toned arms, developed after years of aggressively swinging a beater's bat. His piercing emerald eyes, olive skin, and devilishly mussed black hair, such like his dads, were complimented by a spray of light freckles dusted across the expanse of his nose and cheeks. 

He was athletic, well-liked, smart, and the son of the Chosen One. Even his placement in Slytherin did little to hinder his popularity; although it had been a hot bit of gossip in Rita Skeeter’s Daily Prophet column and contributed to his _‘lovable bad boy’ reputation._ As a result, beautiful girls from all houses practically threw themselves at him on a regular basis.

Al also had the best group of friends anyone could ask for, a gang of Slytherin boys who’d been mates since their first year; Marc Fawley, Amir Shafiq, Jordan Zabini, and Joseph Blurr. The lot were affectionately known as the Firebrand Band because of their knack for good-natured shenanigans, a feat that was undoubtedly aided by the bit of old parchment Albus had nicked from the famous Harry Potter’s study during the summer before his third year.

Yes, Al’s life was perfect, it seemed.

Yet Albus had a secret. A secret that he’d been hiding from everyone, including his family, for years. He was completely and without a doubt, one hundred percent gay. He’d known it since he was thirteen, when he’d found himself enthusiastically wanking to a poster of the legendary Quiberon Quafflepunchers Keeper, Lucas Dubois. He had never looked at a girl with the same longing and desire that he did watching Dubois fly through the goals with the wind in his dirty blond hair and sweat clinging to the small patch of chest visible just above the v-neck of his jersey.

He wasn’t ashamed of it. At least, that’s what he told himself. If he were anyone else he would scream it to the heavens, others' thoughts be damned. It wasn’t as though he was the only bent lad at Hogwarts, right? But he wasn’t anyone else. He was a Potter. And whether Albus wanted it or not, the Wizarding World had certain expectations. He was to play Quidditch exceptionally, make good marks, and date respectable, intelligent, _girls._

So, he did.

He kept his preferences to himself while dating the occasional girl to keep up the façade, staying with them for a couple of weeks before turning them away politely. He knew it wasn’t entirely right to get their hopes up, to lead them on. Therefore, he always made sure to treat them with the highest degree of chivalry, take them on expensive dates to Hogsmeade, while never going further than a few chaste kisses. 

This behavior led to two different assumptions about Albus, depending on whom you asked. One, that he was a hopeless romantic who was always searching for the perfect girl, or that he an egotistical pretty boy who was impossible to please. He didn’t mind the rumors, though. They lent an excuse as to why he hadn’t yet had a serious relationship, without having to make the excuses himself.

The prospect of never being able to go after something, or someone that he could be truly happy with should have depressed him immensely; and at his most vulnerable times, it had. However, he’d long since accepted that inevitability. You see, Albus Severus was doomed to the same fate as his namesakes; destined to be both brilliant and alone.

The lack of a romantic relationship wasn’t the worst fate that could be bestowed upon a man, he’s often reasoned. His life was quite full as it was. Especially now that he was entering his seventh year at Hogwarts. Between N.E.W.Ts, Quidditch, his friends, and pre-career training, he would scarcely have time to sleep, much less brood in self-pity.

Besides, he thought with a bemused chuckle—as he extracted a few issues of Witch Weekly’s Edge magazine from under his mattress and hid them beneath a few wrinkled robes in his school trunk—just because he wouldn’t have a romantic relationship didn’t mean he had to remain celibate for the rest of his life. Muggles had all sorts of clubs and bars exclusively for guys like him, and he planned to explore a few of them after graduation. The Potter/Weasley legacy meant nothing to Muggles, and it wouldn’t take much for him to alter his features just enough to fool a wizard that might happen upon him in the dim lighting of a bar or the flashing lights of an underground club. 

“What are you chuckling about?”

Albus nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his mother’s voice in the doorway. He’d been so lost in his fantasies about scantily clad Muggle boys dancing lewdly on a crowded dance floor that he hadn’t heard her approaching footsteps. He slammed the lid of his trunk closed guiltily, despite the risqué magazines already hidden safely at the bottom, and turned to her, forcing a nonchalant smile.

“Hi mum. Er… nothing much. Just imagining the look on Amir’s face when he finds out that I’ve been made Head Boy,” he lied. It wasn’t that difficult. His friend was likely to wail dramatically and declare Albus a goody two shoes now even more beholden to _‘the man.’_

She laughed and moved to sit on the end of his bed, motioning for him to join her. “I still don’t know how you managed it with all the trouble you and those friends of yours have caused over the years. I suspect McGonagall reckons it will mellow you out.” As soon as he sat down beside her she gathered him in a tight hug and kissed him sloppily on the cheek.

“Urg, Muuuuuuum,” he complained, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. “Stop kissing me like i'm a baby!”

“You’ll always be my baby,” she swooned. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I get the kisses out of the way before we get to the platform, where your reputation as a big manly Quidditch champion could be compromised?”

She had a point, so Al returned the hug and begrudgingly allowed himself to be doted on.

“I can’t believe my little boy is going to Hogwarts for the last time. I’m so proud of you,” she said, brushing his carefully tousled hair out of his eyes. “You’re going to have such a great year if you just-.”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted, having heard it all summer from both his parents. “If I just focus on my studies and don’t allow myself to get too stressed out. Don’t worry, mum, I won’t.”

She smiled at him fondly and winked. “Actually, I was going to say that if you do what makes _you_ happy, without worrying about what me, your dad, or anyone else thinks, you’ll have a great year.”

Albus froze momentarily. There seemed to be some hidden meaning behind her words and he didn’t want to think about what that might be. She couldn’t know about that.

“I always do what makes me happy,” he muttered, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

Ginny frowned, giving him a meaningful look. “Do you really Al?” she asked softly. 

“O-of course I do.” He internally cursed himself for stuttering out the lie as her frown grew deeper. Ginny Potter was a highly perceptive woman who could usually tell when one of her children was being dishonest, so he decided to change tactics by telling the truth without exactly answering the question. “I’m happy, mum. The Slytherin team is favorite to win the cup this year and Professor Marsh tells me that I’m a shoo-in for St. Mungo’s Medicinal Potions department, if I keep up my marks. I’m looking forward to a great year.”

His mum squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “I’m glad that you’re happy, Al, however, if… if there’s anything that is keeping you from being happier or more fulfilled, then you shouldn’t let m—.”

“MUM! HAVE YOU SEEN FRANKLIN? I CAN’T FIND HIM,” Lily bellowed from the next room, breaking the tension that had momentarily developed between the two of them.

Ginny rolled her eyes and planted another kiss on Albus’s cheek as she stood to leave. “Remember what I said, Alby,” she urged-with a look that was far too knowing for his comfort-as she left the room.

Albus fell back onto the bed and expelled a slow, steadying breath. He closed his eyes, willing his rapidly beating heart to slow to a normal rate while silently thanking his sister’s elusive Pygmy Puff for getting him out of that interaction just in time.

With a heavy sigh, he stood to scan his room one final time for anything that he might have missed, convincing himself that he had nothing to worry about. Even if his mum had suspicions, he had no intention of ever confirming them.

_**Scorpius** _

If Scorpius Malfoy could choose one word to describe himself, it would be 'unextraordinary.'

There was nothing about him that stood out, nothing remarkable.

Admittedly, he was more clever than the average pupil, but it wasn’t due to a natural talent toward academics. He just worked harder and longer on his studies than many other students did. Partially because his family would accept nothing less, and partly because he didn’t have much else to do.

He wasn’t popular. Half of his classmates were terrified of him, mistakenly believing that the Malfoys still had strong ties to dark magic. The other half were completely indifferent to him, correctly perceiving him as introverted, mild mannered, and unassertive. Basically… boring.

In fact, he only had one close friend, fellow Ravenclaw and Prefect Rose Granger-Weasley, who was equally unpopular due to her awkward social skills and knack for saying whatever came to mind despite how blunt or strange it might come across.

He also wasn’t athletic. He lacked the coordination and agility required to play for his house Quidditch team, much to his father’s poorly concealed disappointment. Scorpius, however, was never particularly put out by this fact; flying made him queasy and his lithe form and delicate bone structure simply weren’t suited for such strenuous physical activity.

Despite his self-described gangly frame, he’d grown into a nice-looking boy. He’d inherited the regal high cheekbones and thick eyebrows typical of his Greengrass and Black genes, yet his appearance was all Malfoy otherwise; silky blond hair, impossibly pale skin, and piercing silvery-blue eyes.

Sadly, it didn’t do him much good. His looks had never been enough to entice any romantic interest from his peers. Not that he was interested in that sort of thing. Sure, the thought of engaging intimately with someone—things like holding hands, stolen kisses, and just being physically close to another person—was theoretically appealing. Although, for him, engaging in such a relationship meant putting himself out there, taking risks, and being a bit more forthcoming with his sexuality; something he was only willing to do for the right person.

Scorpius wasn’t in the closet. He’d told all of his friends that he fancied blokes back in fifth year. The fact that Rose was his only friend and no one else had bothered to ask was entirely irrelevant.

His family was a different story. On the one hand, he hated keeping secrets from them. Contrary to what the larger Wizarding World might believe, the Malfoys were a happy and extremely close family. They spent a significant amount of time together and Scorpius had always been encouraged to be open about his thoughts and feelings.

On the other hand, perhaps for the same reasons, he was terrified of disappointing them. He wasn’t worried that they would be disappointed if he chose a pureblood partner or not. His parents had seen far too much in their lives to carry on those archaic views. He also wasn’t especially worried about how they would react to his sexuality. At worst, his mum would coddle him more and his father would be a bit uncomfortable for a while. Actually, that was probably inevitable.

No, those things could be overcome. However, no matter how supportive they may or may not be, it wouldn’t change the fact that Scorpius being gay meant the end of the Malfoy Dynasty. No more family members, no heir, and no bouncing babies for them spoil. The thought haunted him, because as much as he wanted that for them, he also wanted it for himself.

He had to tell them, though. And he decided that today would be the day, no backing out. It was the first day of his seventh year, after all.

So, the morning of September first, Scorpius woke early, double checked that he had packed everything appropriately, and dressed in his best muggle suit. He didn’t wear muggle clothing often, as he found them restricting, but he had a few pieces tailored for occasions like this when he would need to navigate through King's Cross station. He struggled to knot the tie nervously for several minutes before giving up and chucking it into the rubbish bin. Leaving it off was bound to annoy his father, yet he suspected once he talked to him at breakfast, this small indiscretion would easily be forgotten.

Scorpius stood in front of the elegant cheval glass mirror for what felt like ages, staring at his reflection. Eventually, he decided he looked like a complete ponce and far too formal to board the train for school. Defiantly, he mussed his perfectly combed hair and undid the first three buttons of the white collared shirt. Deciding that he rather liked this more casual look, he slipped on his Italian leather loafers and headed down to breakfast.

He walked more slowly down to the dining room than he normally would, in an attempt to ease his nerves. He hadn’t exactly planned on how he would approach the subject he so desperately wanted to talk to them about. In an act of desperation, he’d sought out Rose for advice several days prior and regretted it instantly. He loved the girl, he really did, although he didn’t think _‘just holler it out before you board the train and run,’_ was the best idea.

With a chuckle at the memory, Scorpius pushed open the door to the dining room and strode in. His parents were already at the end of the table, a full spread of English breakfast in front of them. His dad was hidden behind the prophet while his mum looked up and smiled brightly.

“Good morning, dear,” she greeted. “It’s nearly eight thirty. I was about to send Ruby up to make sure you hadn’t drowned in the bath.”

Scorpius laughed and bent down to kiss her on the top of the head before taking his seat. “Sorry Mum, I was double checking to make sure everything was packed properly.”

“Nonsense, Ruby never forgets anything. She’s a top-of-the-line elf,” Draco drawled from behind the morning paper.

“Right, well I—”

“Why aren’t you dressed?” His father sat down the paper and frowned at him. “Wasn’t your new tie set out for you?”

Scorpius fought to suppress a smile. His father was far too predictable. “I am dressed, dad. I don’t need a tie to walk through a train station,” he defended, piling sausages onto his plate.

Draco’s features contorted into a look of disapproval, his own silver tie knotted perfectly. He muttered what sounded like _‘kids these days’_ while his mother laughed.

“Don’t be such a prude, love. It’s stylish to look a bit… ruffled. Isn’t that right, Scorpius?”

“Um, yeah,” Scorpius mumbled, as if he knew anything about what was and wasn’t considered stylish.

His dad returned to his paper with a snort. “At least brush your hair. Saint Potter struts through the Ministry looking like he has a bird’s nest on his head and it’s seen as a fashion statement. The lack of class is appalling.”

“Well, I think you look dashing.” Astoria smiled and winked at Scorpius who returned a grin, unseen by Draco. They were both used to comments like this. His father’s irritation at any reminder of The Chosen One was a running inside joke between them.

His mum then began to prattle on enthusiastically. “Grandpa and Grandma Malfoy owled this morning. They send their love and asked me to remind you to avoid distractions this year. You’re N.E.W.Ts are very important. Papa and Gran sent you a massive box of sweets, which I’m sure you don’t need, but they insist on spoiling you. You will be sure to write them this semester, won’t you? When you don’t write often enough, mum floods me with owls inquiring about your well-being. Do you plan to join any clubs this year? It would look good on your curriculum vitae. The dueling club could be a lot of fun, as long as it doesn’t conflict with your prefect duties.”

She only paused to breathe, which was just fine for Scorpius. It gave him time to gather his wits. It wasn’t until the food before them disappeared and his father recommended that they get ready to apparate that Scorpius realized that he’d run out of time. 

Draco rose from his chair and headed toward the foyer, stopping momentarily to straighten his own impeccably tailored suit and tie in the hallway mirror. Astoria summoned Ruby to collect his trunk for him, and the bubbly little elf wished them all happy travels before bustling off. 

“Ready then?” his mum asked as she clasped his father’s hand and held the other out to him.

Scorpius hesitated in the hallway and took a deep, hardly calming breath, hands balling to fists at his sides in determination.

"Actually," he mumbled, wincing only slightly at the pitiful tremor he heard in his own voice. "Actually, there's something I'd like to tell you before we go. If... if that's all right?"

Astoria nodded then looked to her husband for his response.

"Go ahead then, Scorpius," Draco replied with a slight nod.

"Well, you see... The thing is..." fumbling for words, Scorpius flicked his eyes about the place, wishing he had done this on a day they weren't about to apparate to a station full of strangers. Was it too late to think up a lie and tell them during Christmas break? No, no, he should just get on with it; rip the bandage off, as it were. "I might be, I mean, I am. The problem is..."

Scorpius paused, unable to form the words properly. 

Astoria crossed the room in three quick strides, placing her hands on both of her son's shoulders in an attempt to settle him down. "Just breathe, darling. Whatever it is will be all right."

Staring down into her warm hazel eyes, he knew in that moment it was the truth. "I'm gay," he finally announced, feeling both a weight lifted from himself and a sudden wash of dread as he awaited their reactions.

Expectantly, his mother smiled fondly, not a shred of surprise in her expression. Comforted, Scorpius turned to his father who was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“Son, we know you’re excited about your seventh year. Your mother and I are happy as well,” Draco said evenly pulling out his wand and magicking the trunk to float. "Well, then, are you ready to go? The train leaves at half past."

Scorpius gaped at him. How could his own dad misinterpret his meaning so immensely? He could feel the skin on his face begin to burn as he opened and closed his mouth several times before any noise came out. “That’s not… what I meant… I…”

Scorpius stopped his babbling immediately as his dad began laughing hysterically. Confused, he looked to his mum who rolled her eyes, turned abruptly, and slapped his father on the back of the head. “Draco!”

“What? I can’t have a go at my own kid?” he gasped out between chuckles.

“Honestly, we’ve talked about this! We need to be reassuring and supportive,” Astoria argued, still frowning deeply. Scorpius continued to stare, utterly perplexed by the scene before him.

“Relax, Tori, I was trying to lighten the mood. The boy looked like he was going to sink through the floor.” Draco turned to him, still pink in the face and grinning broadly. “He knows it’s all right, don’t you, son?”

Scorpius nodded and smiled back sheepishly, the tension in his body loosening considerably. His dad was taking the mickey and in a strange way, that was more comforting than an emotional embrace or regurgitation of supportive words ever could be. Because even in the comfort of his home and family, it was rare for the poised and aristocratic Draco Malfoy to break out in hysterical giggles.

"What your father means," Astoria butted in, shooting an exasperated look at her husband, "Is that we love you no matter what, and we're glad you had the courage to tell us."

"T-thank you," Scorpius croaked, blinking owlishly at the two of them. “So, you already knew?”

His mum winked at him while his father seemed to be trying desperately to suppress more laughter. "Had our suspicions," he quipped.

“We began to suspect some years ago,” his mother added kindly. "I hope you understand that we didn’t ask you directly because we wanted you to come to us when you were ready. I wish you would have come to us at a time when we could have discussed it more thoroughly.”

“I disagree,” Draco interjected. “Spot on, Scorpius. Now we don’t have to indulge your mum with an awkward talk about sex and relationships.” 

Scorpius’s mouth fell open at his father mentioning the word sex. “We don’t need to do that. I’ve read books! Pamphlets and things. I know all about it,” he cried in panic, immediately regretting that admission. 

Draco snorted with mirth and Astoria’s face colored slightly, her lips twitching as she too was now struggling not to laugh. She patted him on the arm lovingly. "That’s very responsible of you, dear. Now, we really should be heading off. Wouldn't want you to miss the train."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this fic for a few months, and have several more chapters already written. I've planned for 4-6 parts. So this is basically just a preview of Part 1. If ppl are interested in the preview, I'll continue to write it (and tag it more appropriately.) If not, I may choose to focus on other projects.  
> This is sort of an experiment? Mainly because it takes me a ton a time to write and I want to make sure the story has an interested audience before I make that much of a time commitment. So I really really encourage comments and feedback.  
> 1/7/18 Update: I have decided to continue this after a lot of positive feedback (i'm gushing, thank you so much, really.) So as of today @4:30 MST I have updated the tags to more accurately reflect the story's direction. Please note that anyone who has commented prior to this time, did so without without those tags. (I didn't add anything crazy, but I like to be fair :)  
> I am going to do something a little different with this particular fic, also as a test, and post two separate versions. One (this one) without smut and less bad language, and another explicit version for those that are interested in that. (Look for that to be posted with the next update.)


	2. Chapter Two

_**Albus** _

If there was one thing that Albus was utterly incapable of achieving, it was punctuality. Over the years, he’d lost count of the amount of detentions and disappointed dates that were a result of this particular flaw and had long since begrudgingly accepted it as an inevitability. 

Accepting it didn’t mean he was happy about it, though. It continued to drive him batty on a regular basis because it was _never_ his fault. Of course, no one ever believed him. But that didn’t make it any less true. 

It wasn’t his fault that he was regularly accosted by a myriad of cousins and fawning girls in the corridors, blocking his way to class. It certainly wasn’t Slytherin’s Quidditch players that periodically jinxed Bludgers to follow Albus and his team mates around the castle, smacking them on the head repeatedly. Bloody Hufflepuff had been getting away with that one for years. And he definitely couldn’t be blamed for the antics of his ruddy dorm mates, specifically Jordan and Amir, who couldn’t go more than a few days without causing some catastrophe he and Marc had to clean up. 

Therefore, it was no surprise that the Potter family arrived at platform 9 ¾ a mere five minutes before it was scheduled to depart. Meaning that he wouldn’t have time to coordinate further with the new Head Girl on the changes they’d discussed over the holidays. 

Lily, who unsurprisingly failed to make Prefect herself, held them up by insisting they turn back to collect Franklin’s play wheel which she’d forgotten to pack. His sister, while quite intelligent and friendly, tended to be scatterbrained, clumsy, and often oblivious to the needs of those around her.

As soon as they crossed the barrier, Albus charmed his trunk to float and began to race off to the train before his father stopped him with a pointed clearing of the throat. 

“Too old and cool to hug your parents goodbye?” he questioned, smirking lightly. 

Marginally chastised and embarrassed, he turned around and hugged his mother, bending down to kiss her on the cheek before turning to his dad. “Sorry,” he mumbled before allowing himself to be pulled into a bunglesome side hug. 

“I have something for you,” said Harry as they pulled apart. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny faux velvet drawstring bag. With a wave of his wand the bag expanded, and he handed it to his son with a teasing smile. “Your Grampa rounded them up for you. If he isn’t careful your cousins and siblings are going to start to notice his favoritism.”

Albus took the bag eagerly, his excitement rising when he heard the jingling of tin within. It was all he could do to contain the assuredly embarrassing _whoop_ that threatened to escape him when he peered inside to find at least a dozen battered Muggle film reels. 

“Brilliant,” he squeaked, grateful that most of the students were already on the train, well away from earshot. “Where did he find these?” 

“Dad has discovered secondhand shops. It’s driving Mum insane,” Ginny explained. “Although, I don’t understand why you two need more of them. Don’t you have a few dozen already?” 

Albus gaped at his mum indignantly, exasperated as ever at her unfamiliarity of all things Muggle. “They’re all different! You wouldn’t want to read the same handful of books over and over again, would you?” 

“Yes, well, nevertheless, you’ll be sure to write your Grampa and thank him, won’t you?” 

Nodding earnestly, he waved a final goodbye at his parents and bolted off toward the train just as it began to move.

“Try to enjoy yourself,” his dad shouted as he jumped through the closing train door just in time to avoid being crushed by it. 

It took him several minutes to locate his friends' compartment, which was inconveniently located at the opposite end of the train as the one allocated for Prefects' meeting, no doubt his friends’ idea of a joke. 

He slid the door open when he found them, mumbling a rushed hello while stowing his trunk, and the bag of newly acquired film reels in the overhead rack.

“Al!”

“Albuuuuus, bro!”

“What’s new, mate?”

“Sorry gents, gotta run,” he responded while securing his things. “I’m late.”

“Ooh, I see. Saint Potter has no time for his mates.”

Jordan huffed, “Far be it from us to hold the great and noble Prefect up from his annual wanker convention,” prompting a collective laugh among the other boys.

Al turned to the others and pointed smugly to the shiny green and silver Head Boy badge that was neatly attached to his shirt. “I’ll be leading that wanker convention this year, git,” he mused before turning to leave the compartment, reveling in their shocked faces. He only made it a few steps away before Amir’s strangled cry of _“What the bloody fuck?”_ reached his ears.

**_Scorpius_ **

Scorpius escaped the awkward goodbye with his parents and rushed down the train to the Prefects' compartment. If he were lucky, he would make it just in time for the meeting to begin. 

Lost in thought about his less than conventional _‘coming out’_ fiasco, he failed to notice someone bolting from the compartment to his left. He unceremoniously slammed into something solid, lost his footing, and fell bodily to the floor of the train. Groaning at the pain in his bum, he looked up, only to have his breath catch uncomfortably in his throat.

He’d run directly into Albus Potter.

The other boy stared at him peculiarly for a moment, as if he’d never seen him before, causing Scorpius’ face to color with humiliation. Of all the people to make a fool of himself in front of, it had to be the most attractive and popular boy at Hogwarts. _Typical,_ he thought, as he made to stand.

His eye caught a shiny Head Boy badge pinned to Albus's shirt. 

Albus shook his head as if composing himself, smiled brightly at him, and extended his hand to help him up. “Sorry about that, Malfoy.”

Hesitantly, Scorpius accepted the offered hand and allowed himself to be hoisted up easily. He might have noted just how strong the Slytherin was if he wasn’t so distracted by his embarrassment and the warmth of Albus’s hand in his own.

He, like most of the female population of Hogwarts, had been nursing a slight crush on Al for years. Although, rather than throwing himself at Albus at every opportunity like the girls did, he didn’t entertain any illusions that he had a chance with the gorgeous, and very straight Quidditch Captain. It was for this reason that he typically avoided him. If he occasionally admired Al's toned physique from the Quidditch stands, well, there was no harm in that.

“S’Okay,” he mumbled, hastily pulling his hand away. “I was running to get to the Prefect's meeting in time.”

“Me too. Guess we’re both late.” Albus was still smiling brightly at him. “Best get going then or Minnie will regret appointing me Head Boy.”

Albus turned and moved down the hall while Scorpius followed a few steps behind him, silently willing his face to return to its normal shade of pale. It wasn’t exactly an easy feat, though, as Al was dressed in a pair of Muggle jeans that hugged his fit arse perfectly and a tight green t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and biceps.

Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and the finest _arse_ in the U.K.? What didn’t Potter have?

Scorpius swallowed the lump that developed in his throat and forced his eyes upward, inwardly cursing the heavy robes of their school uniforms that the other boy usually wore. It should be a sin to cover a body like that.

When they entered the furthermost compartment, the other prefects were already gathered and chattering enthusiastically about their summers. Bypassing the crowd, Scorpius quickly located Rose in the corner, only her bushy hair visible behind a large book. 

“Advanced Ancient Runes. How many times have you read that one? Eight? Nine?” he mused, sliding into the seat beside her. 

“Don’t patronize me, Scorpius. You know very well that I’ll require an O in Runes to get accepted into the Unspeakable program,” she replied peevishly, not looking up. “Mum and I have compiled a list of forty-three books to read this year in addition to the curriculum set by our Professors. You’d do well to read them, too.”

“Forty-three,” he gasped in disbelief. Rose came to school every year with a meticulously planned supplemental reading list, but this was entirely too much. 

“Scorpius, its _N.E.W.T._ year,” she responded with an indignant sigh—finally dropping the book into her lap—revealing faint dark circles underneath her eyes. No doubt due to a lack of sleep and excessive studying over the summer. 

He didn’t agree that N.E.W.T.s made the idea of reading forty-three books in addition to classes and revision any less mad, but there was no use in arguing with her, so he simply smiled apologetically and nodded. “I’ll have a look at the list after the meeting. Who was appointed Head Girl?”

“Angela Perkins,” Rose answered bitterly. “I owled McGonagall and the old bat had the nerve to tell me that I was considered but she was afraid that I would be too wrapped up in my studies to fulfill the extra duties.”

Scorpius suppressed a chuckle. Personally, he was surprised that Rose still had her badge at all considering how many times she’d skipped her rounds to study in the library or told off a first year for interrupting her revision to ask a question. Of course, he didn’t mention this. Partly because he loved his best mate and didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And partly because he didn’t have a death wish today. 

“I can’t believe they chose that dunce of a cousin of mine over you for Head Boy either,” she continued vehemently. “He’s already a Quidditch Captain _and_ a Prefect. It’s clearly favoritism as he and his idiot friends are always causing trouble.”

Scorpius smiled and shook his head. “It’s because he’s so personable, Rosie. He’s confident and he knows how to talk to people.”

Rose snorted. “That’s not confidence, Scor, it’s arrogance.”

“Whatever it is, I wouldn’t want the job anyway,” he admitted with a shrug. The truth was, he envied Albus’s personable character and self-assured attitude. They were the traits of strong and powerful leaders and Scorpius couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would be if he possessed them. 

Fortunately, he was spared from further conversation on the matter as the others all sat, looking expectantly at the New Head Girl and Boy. 

Albus cleared his throat and surveyed the room. Looking between the Prefects, he nodded approvingly. His gaze seemed to linger on Scorpius for longer than the others, causing him to blush slightly and duck his head.

“Right,” Albus croaked, strangely, still staring at Scorpius.

Of course, Scorpius thought gravely, _he’s trying not to laugh at me for making an arse of myself in the corridor._

Albus cleared his throat again and looked away pointedly. “Er, right, so Angela and I have talked about it and decided that we are going to do things a bit differently this year. In the past, you’ve conducted your rounds primarily with the other prefect in your year and house. However, this year, we thought it might be more fun to mix it up and schedule rounds so that you’re with someone from a different house and year every day.”

Rose groaned in irritation as the others nodded enthusiastically. Scorpius understood her indisposition. Since they became Prefects in fifth year, they had only ever had rounds together (or Scorpius completed them alone because his friend refused to delay her Transfiguration revision) and it suited them both perfectly. 

“I’ve composed a schedule,” Angela said brightly, pulling a stack of parchment from her bag and handing half to Albus. They moved to opposite ends of the compartment and began handing them out.

When Albus stopped in front of Scorpius, he handed him the paper and grinned devilishly. “We’ve got the delinquent shift together,” he said with a wink, referring to the late shift on Saturday evening where the most troublemakers tended to be found.

Scorpius felt his face grow hot again and internally cursed himself. “S-should be fun,” he managed with a smile that probably made him look bonkers.

“Sheesh,” Rose groaned beside him.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Rose. This is going to be fun,” Albus said before tossing her the schedule and moving on.

“Are you kidding me, Scor,” she hissed angrily as soon as Albus was out of earshot.

He composed himself quickly and frowned. “What?”

“Albus winked at you and you blushed like bumbling third year. Please tell me you don’t have a crush on him?”

Scorpius froze momentarily. “T-that’s ridiculous,” he replied, perhaps a bit too defensively.

Rose frowned and pushed her bushy curls out of her face with a sigh. “Listen, there isn’t a credible book on proper romance etiquette. I know, because I’ve looked for one,” she whispered. “But even I have enough common sense to advise strongly against falling for a straight boy who’s never had a relationship that lasted beyond two weeks.”

Scorpius was surprised by how genuine she sounded. Rose didn't normally concern herself with discussions about feelings and romance. 

“It isn’t like that,” he lied. “We just had an awkward run-in before the meeting.”

Rose relaxed visibly and offered a rare smile. “Good to know you aren’t completely losing your head,” she replied. “How did things go with your parents? You did talk to them, right? Or did you chicken out?”

“My dad teased me, and my mum scolded him for it,” he recalled fondly. “I suppose it went well.”

“You know, it’s a shame our parents don’t get on. They’re exactly the same.” 

**_Albus_ **

Later, Albus wouldn’t be able to explain exactly how he’d made it through his first Prefects' meeting as Head Boy without completely losing his cool.

In his previous six years of education, he had barely spared a glance Malfoy’s way. He knew who he was, of course. They’d had various classes together over the years. However, he couldn’t recall ever having a proper conversation with him.

Now, though, he couldn’t see how he’d overlooked the other boy for so long. He was absolutely beautiful, and it had taken all of Al’s willpower to act casually on the train.

He’d winked at him. _Winked!_ Like a befuddled fool! 

Although, in Al’s defense, Scorpius Malfoy in tight slacks and a slightly see-through white button down was entirely too pleasing. 

_Pleasing_ might not have been the best word to describe it. In some ways _alarming_ was more appropriate. Because unlike the unattainable celebrities and nameless/faceless Muggles he usually fantasized about, Scorpius was real and present in his life. And when he’d offered his hand to help Scorpius up, the image that played in his mind had nothing to do with bending an eager body over a loo stall. 

No, he’d imagined what it might be like to run his hands through Scorpius’s blond hair. To pull him close in a tight embrace, to kiss him. _To kiss him!?!_

Albus sighed in frustration as he unpacked his trunk. The last thing he needed was to develop a crush on the quiet, studious Ravenclaw. He had no desire for a repeat of his fifth year in which he’d spent the entirety of burying his unrequited feelings for the former Slytherin Quidditch Captain. 

The other boy spent the year shagging any girl who would let him in various broom closets, while Albus silently wallowed in bitterness. It was the only time in his life that he’s been truly jealous. Not because he couldn’t have him (frankly he was a bit of a berk), but because he couldn’t be like him. _Normal._

“What’s up with you, Al,” Amir asked from across the dim dormitory. “You’ve been quiet all day. You barely said a word at the Feast. Don’t tell me this Head Boy thing is going to your head already.”

Annoyed at being interrupted out of his thoughts, Albus kicked his trunk shut forcefully. “I couldn’t get a word in past all of your moaning about me being Head Boy.” It was true, Amir had spent most of the meal trying to convince him to give up his badge so that they could have a _‘fun year.’_

“I’m mulling over new Quidditch strategies. And you should, too, if you want to win the cup this year.”

Amir’s mouth dropped open, affronted by Al’s peevish tone.

“Whoa, what’s your deal,” Jordan asked from the bed beside him. 

Al looked over to see Marc and Joseph also peering at him questioningly. While the others fought constantly, it wasn’t like him to snap at anyone, much less one of his best mates.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, ruffling his cloud of black hair nervously. “Just tired.”

The others seemed to relax. “No worries. Get some sleep because I do have several strategies I want to discuss with you tomorrow. Ravenclaw doesn’t stand a chance if we can find ourselves a decent Keeper replacement.”

The boys began talking enthusiastically about their odds for the coming season and who they thought would make a good Keeper while Albus changed into his Slytherin pajama’s, only occasioning grunting in approval or disagreement.

Once he settled beneath his covers, prepared to close the curtains as soon as possible to indulge in a good wank, Joseph turned to him with a playful smile.

“You know what might make you feel better,” he drawled with a wink. “A good shag. Perkins was watching you pretty closely during the feast. Reckon she might be down for a tumble in the sheets.”

The other boys laughed and Albus joined in heartily, filled with relief. It seemed that after years, his friends were still clueless about his preferences. “Is that so,” he asked with false bravo.

Joseph rolled his eyes and continued to chuckle. “Like you didn’t notice, half the girls in this bloody school are after you.”

Amir snorted. “He never does seem to notice, though, does he? Lucky shit. What I would give for a chance to get into Mary Caldwell’s knickers.”

“If you don’t lay off the cheesy pick-up lines you aren’t likely to get into any girl’s knickers,” Albus teased. He loved Amir like a brother, but he had zero class when talking to members of the opposite sex. “Who wants to bet he’ll still be a virgin when we—”

“Are you going to ask her out, then?”

Albus, caught off guard by the interruption, turned to Marc, who was gazing at him evenly. No trace of humor on his features.

“Who?”

“Angela, are you going to ask her out? Not many blokes would pass up a chance with a bint like that.” 

Albus frowned. The other boy sounded as if he were challenging him, which was very unlike him.

“Er, no. No, not if you like her or something,” he fumbled, desperate for that the be the reason his friend was now regarding him inquisitively. No, _suspiciously._

“I don’t,” Marc replied after a moment, in which he appeared deep in thought. “It’s just… well you don’t date much, do you? You’ve got plenty of options.”

“I just. You know… haven’t found the right person.” The moment the words left his mouth he realized that the worst thing he possibly could have said. Because Marc, the only boy in their group that rivaled himself in cleverness, was looking him directly in the eye, with a look of realization and surprise playing across his features. _He knew._

“Oh.”

Albus’ entire body went rigid and his palms began to sweat. A thick lump formed in the back of his throat, and for a second, it felt like he was going to choke. 

“Come off it, mate,” he replied as evenly as possible given that he was on the brink of an anxiety attack. “You know I don’t have time to entertain every witch who bats an eyelash at me. They always get moody when you ditch them for your friends or Quidditch. It’s tiring.”

Marc smiled cautiously at him. “I suppose it is.”

“Well, send some of those adoring ladies my way. The only upside to being shit on the pitch is having more spare time for carnal shenanigans,” Jordan mused, oblivious to the tension between his two friends.

“Anytime, mate. Cheers,” he replied, closing the curtains around his bed and sighing deeply. He’d been so careful for years, and now he’d gone and nearly outed himself in one bloody day. His mum was onto him, he’d practically ogled Malfoy on the train in front of everyone, and now Marc was suspicious of him. 

Albus wrapped himself tightly in his duvet, willing his heartbeat to slow. Perhaps he was reading too much into the actions and words of others. Perhaps it was simply his own paranoia creeping into his thoughts and causing him to see things that weren’t there. Nevertheless, he would invite Angela to the first Hogsmeade visit and commit himself to be being more careful. 

And with that in mind, Albus fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of soft pink lips brushing against his own and silky blond hair between his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about this. I told myself that I was going to finish this fic before I started updating it so that I could line up the chapters to be updated regularly. But then I turned my attention back to to my other Scorbus fic and this one fell to the back burner... sort of?  
> So, I really shouldn't be posting this at all, but I really really wanted to post something to lift my spirits. And then it occured to me that this chapter has been metaphorically collecting dust in my computer files... soo I thought, _'what the hell'_ I'll post it and hope that people are pleased with it. Or at least okay with waiting for updates because this fic is incomplete.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be mindful of the tags.

_**Scorpius** _

On the morning after the Welcoming Feast, Scorpius and Rose woke early for breakfast, not unlike they did most weekends during the year.

With the start of term having fallen on a Friday, and no actual classes to begin until that Monday, the students of Hogwarts found themselves in an undeniably fortuitous situation. Not that that had stopped Rose from getting an early start on their studies; the girl was nothing if not continuously ahead of the curve. Without much else to do but fall into the same rhythm, Scorpius was normally happy to follow suit. _Normally._

Something about this day felt different, an electric buzz of excitement filling the air. Most of the school had caught on and decided to enjoy the free pass while their responsibilities were still limited, a sort of second-hoorah before the long year began. For once in his life, Scorpius felt inclined to try something new. The tricky part was getting his studious best mate to agree.

“I thought we could take our studies out to the lake today,” he suggested casually as Rose balanced a dusty volume on a goblet of pumpkin juice.

“Don’t be silly Scor,” she said dismissively, not bothering to look up. “The grounds will be loaded with students. We should take advantage of the empty library.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes, having expected that very response. “We can do that Sunday. C’mon Rosie, just a few hours,” he begged.

She sighed and lifted her gaze toward the enchanted ceiling. “I suppose it is a nice day. But I’m taking my books. I don’t have time to waste galivanting around the grounds.” 

Scorpius grinned brightly, surprised at having convinced her so easily. “Fair enough. Let’s play at least one game of chess, though. It’s been ages. I’ll bring my—”

“Hi, Rose.” A nervous voice called from behind them. “How was your summer?”

A sly smile came across Scorpius face as he looked up to see Jack Thomas, a quiet Gryffindor in their year, shuffling his feet apprehensively with a hopeful grin on his face.

“Quite busy,” she replied curtly, as oblivious as ever to the other Thomas's affections. “Lots of summer reading. As well as a fascinating pre-internship with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I wish I would have gotten more done, but my dad insisted I partake in every family gathering and refused to let me study at the dinner table. Mum is usually more reasonable, of course, yet even she wouldn’t budge. It’s incredibly irritating.” 

By the time Rose finished her rant Scorpius was desperately trying to suppress giggles as Thomas stared wide-eyed, apparently unsure of how to respond. “That’s er… It’s so impressive how dedicated you are to your studies. We could study together sometime. If you would like?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be very efficient,” Rose replied, frowning. “We only have a few classes together, and you’re not even in my house.”

The boy’s face flushed deeply. “Er… right. I suppose that’s true. I—I’ll see you around.” He turned and shuffled back to the Gryffindor table with his head hung low in disappointment. Thomas had been holding a torch for Rose as long as Scorpius could remember, and in a way, he sympathized with him. It couldn’t be easy to be rejected so dismissively. Unfortunately, Rose wasn’t likely to see anything she hadn’t read from a book. The lad was doomed.

An hour later the two made their way to the base of a large tree near the banks of the lake. Scorpius breathed deeply and sighed. It truly was a beautiful day; warm and just breezy enough to prevent stuffiness in the air.

They settled in with their backs against the thick trunk and piled their books up around them. Scorpius had just pulled his Wizard’s chess set out and had begun arranging the pieces when he heard Rose groan beside him, mumbling something crude under her breath.

Looking up, he instantly spotted the source of her aggravation. Potter and his wayward group of Slytherin friends were gathered by the lake, tossing off their robes and horseplaying around. Zabini and Sadiq hoisted Burr, the smallest of their group, and flung him bodily into the water, while the others laughed and followed in him.

“They’re so juvenile,” she spat.

But Scorpius wasn’t listening. His mouth went dry and goosebumps prickled up on his arms as he watched.

Albus was wearing nothing except a frayed pair of tan-colored Muggle cargo shorts, that were hanging low on his hips due to being soaked through, the band of his underpants just visible beneath. Even from a distance, Scorpius could make out the other’s boys well defined muscles; golden brown and dripping tantalizingly with murky lake water. His normal carefully tossed black locks were sticking haphazardly to his forehead and temples in a manner that should have looked ridiculous, but Al somehow managed to pull it off.

Scorpius was abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp slap to the side of his head. “Ouch,” he winced, ripping his eyes away from Albus to glare at the insufferable red-head beside him. 

“What the hell, Rosie?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages,” she huffed. “Stop ogling my cousin. It’s so gross.”

Scorpius face burned hotly. “I’m doing no such thing!”

The girl gaped at him. “You need to get it together, Scorpius. It’s N.E.W.T. year, for Merlin’s sake. If you spend it eye-fucking the Head Boy, you’ll fail everything!”

Scorpius was used to his best friend being a bit dramatic about their school work, but this was too much. “Glancing at a boy from time to time isn’t going cause me to fail. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You underestimate the consequences of an unrequited crush. I get it Scor, we're seventeen and it’s natural to feel... _urges._ But it will take up your entire mind. It’s distracting, and trust me, with Albus, you’d just get hurt.”

“What would you know about it, anyway,” he snapped hotly, annoyed at Rose’s lack of sensitivity. 

He regretted it instantly when his friend flushed a vibrant red, a rare occurrence, and quickly ducked her head.

“Dumbledore’s beard,” he breathed. “You have a crush on someone? Why haven’t you said?”

“ _Had_ a crush on someone,” she emphasized softly, in a vulnerable way that unnerved him. It wasn’t like Rose at all. “Then I came to my senses. I’m under no illusions that I’m the type of girl that school boys fancy and there is no use in me wasting precious time pining over some twit when I could be thinking about my future.”

Scorpius, feeling a sudden rush of sympathy and affection for his only friend, put his finger underneath his chin and lifted her face until their eyes met. They weren’t teary, that wasn’t her way, but they were set hard and sure.

“Rose, don’t say things like that,” he murmured, internally kicking himself for not having been a better friend. Rose was truly amazing in her unique way, and he should have done better at letting her know that. “You’re the smartest girl I know, down to earth, and hilarious.”

She rolled her eyes and offered a half smile. “Boys aren’t interested in grounded smart girls. They like boobs and good looks, of which I have neither, not that I care about those sorts of things.” 

Scorpius smirked at her, knowing she would smack him if he continued with the mushy praising.

Rose Granger-Weasley had always been something of an enigma. Strong contradictions existed in her personality that even Scorpius, her best friend of six years, often found difficult to decipher.

To most, she came across as abrasive, uncensored, and self-absorbed. She spoke honestly and critically, with a no-nonsense attitude more akin to an elderly librarian than a seventeen-year-old girl. However, if you found yourself close enough, and few people did, you would find a person of strong conviction, loyalty, and compassion. 

Therefore, he had no doubt that she was being sincere. If there were any girl he knew that truly didn’t hold much stock in physical appearance, it was Rose. Which was only ironic because she was one of the prettiest girls in school with next to no effort.

“You know, you might have more suitors if you didn’t intimidate these poor blokes so much,” he quipped, turning to finish setting up the chess set. “I reckon there is one guy who’s sweet on you, not that you’d give him the time of day.”

Rose snorted, seemingly back to her normal self, much to his relief. “Don’t think by humoring me that I’m going to go easy on you at chess. You’re going down, Malfoy.”

“Bring it on Miss Granger-Weasley.” 

_**Albus** _

After a particularly nasty run-in with a slew of Grindylows that attempted to pull him beneath the water, Albus decided he’d had enough swimming for the day. 

Treading out of the water, he and the others made their way to a soft patch of grass near the banks and sat cross-legged in a clumsy circle. 

Marc cast a drying spell on the lot of them, while Joseph pulled out a bag of Muggle tobacco and began rolling a cigarette for the boys to share. 

“When are you two conducting try-out’s?” Jordan asked absently of Albus and Amir, taking the fag from their mate and lighting it with his wand. 

“Saturday,” Albus replied. “I posted the sign-up sheet this morning.”

Marc cocked an eyebrow questioningly. “So soon? Term has only just started. Do you two plan to spend any time revising this year?” 

Suppressing the desire to roll his eyes, Al simply shrugged and took deep drag of the cigarette, enjoying the light buzz of the nicotine as it filled his blood stream. Marc, for all his wit, had very little appreciation for Quidditch and the time it took to assemble a proper team. 

Amir, who was far less even tempered than Al, responded tersely. “Maybe if you spent any time on the pitch, you’d know how tough it is to whip a new player into shape. If I’d had it my way, we would have held them today. Only, Minnie reckoned it wouldn’t be fair to the first years who haven’t had a proper broomstick lesson yet… as if we’d ever consider bringing on a first year.” 

“Why not? Albus’ dad joined the Gryffindor team in his first year.”

“Don’t be stupid, Joe, he’s the exception to the rule. Most first years are rubbish. Besides, Al hates his dad.” He said it so flippantly that even Al was momentarily taken aback. Well, Amir was nothing if not blunt and completely without tact. 

“I don’t _hate_ my dad,” he defended, breaking the ‘puff, puff pass’ rule and taking a third hit of the smoke. It was true, he didn’t hate the man, but if he were honest, growing up with a famous father with whom you had very little in common wasn’t always simple. Their relationship was awkward, at the best of times, tense and unspoken at the worst. 

“Of course you don’t. Is there anyone you like for the position?” Marc inquired. 

Grateful for the subtle change in subject, Al grinned, finally passing the smoke on. “Mir likes Amanda Goldwater. She’s pretty good, tried out last year and nearly got the spot. I’ll be watching Landon Stuarts as well. His mother played with mine on the Harpies.” 

“I seriously doubt that little runt has what it takes,” said Amir. “Goldwater’s our girl. You’ll see—” 

“Hey guys, get a load of this,” Jordan interrupted, gesturing with amusement to a spot behind Albus’ back. “They look cozy.” 

Turning his head slightly, Albus had to contain a gasp when he saw his cousin and Malfoy lounging under a large tree. They looked cozy indeed. Scorpius had a finger tucked beneath Rose’s chin, their faces some mere inches apart, as they whispered quietly together. 

A sharp pang on disappointment rose in his chest. He should have suspected really. The two had been practically attached at the hip since first year. And it wasn’t as though he’d planned to pursue the Malfoy heir anyhow. And yet that didn’t make it any easier to watch as they stared dreamily into each other’s eyes. 

“Huh, didn’t realize those two were shagging. I always got the impression that Malfoy was a shirt lifter,” Amir remarked thoughtfully. 

Albus ripped his eyes away from the couple. “Apparently not,” he grunted, feigning disinterest.

The truth was, he had secretly hoped the other boy was. There had been whispers of speculation for years, but there was never any proof and no one seemed to care enough to confirm it. 

Now though, as it was unceremoniously ripped away from him, he realized that the idea had been a subconscious source of comfort to him. There was something consolatory about knowing he wasn’t alone in his sexual… _abnormality._

“I might have underestimated Malfoy,” Joseph said seriously. “No offense mate, I know she’s your cousin and all, but you’d have to be completely off your rocker or have balls of steel to date that bint, pretty as she is.”

“Joe, you’re a fucking berk,” said Amir, smacking the other on the back of his head. “If Rose Granger-Weasley gave you half a chance you’d be following her around like a pathetic puppy on her heels. Are you jealous that Malfoy's the one getting underneath that skirt?” 

“Oi,” Albus yelped, pulling out his wand and pointing it threateningly at Amir. “Both of you are about a second away from being jinxed into oblivion.” 

“Sorry mate,” the other boy conceded, hands held up defensively. “I sometimes forget you two spent a lot of time together as children.” 

“Just drop it and roll up another fag will ya,” he snapped, hoping that he didn’t sound as eager to drop the subject as he felt. 

A part of him knew good and well that the source of aggravation at his mates’ comments wasn’t entirely related to the way they’d spoken about Rose. However, he saw no need to point that out. Whatever else he might be feeling about it was inconsequential. 

“I saw that you got some new films,” said Marc conversationally, no doubt to defuse the tension. He’d developed a skill for it over the years. “Have you got any new western movies? I must admit, I really like that Clint Eastwood fellow. I’m always amazed at how Muggles make those metal AKs look so cool.” 

“I haven’t had time to go through them yet,” he responded, perking up as he always did when he got the chance to discuss films. “I’ll have a look at the new ones tomorrow. Today I’ve got to finish unpacking and then I have rounds... after dinner.”

_Rounds. Rounds with Malfoy! Bloody Hell._

_**Scorpius** _

Scorpius stood before a large mirror in the Prefects' bathroom, nervously tossing his silky blond hair. Carefully, he scrutinized his robes to ensure there were no wrinkles or lint that might be off-putting. Once satisfied, he again examined his regal features, turning his face this way and that until he could find no obvious flaws in his reflection. 

It was a silly thing to do, and he knew Rosie would scold him if she saw. But no matter how pointless his efforts might be, he wasn’t going to spend an evening with Potter looking anything less than his best. He wasn’t vain, though the girl had called him dapper a time or two. 

With one last measured look at his reflection, he turned to leave the bathroom and headed toward the seventh-floor, where he was to meet Albus for rounds. 

The closer he got to his destination, the more nervous he became. He was determined not to make a fool of himself again, but he hadn’t a clue how to go about doing that because Albus was funny, popular, and wickedly handsome. And Scorpius didn’t possess a lick of his easy charm. 

When he arrived in the corridor, there was no sign of Potter. Had he come to the right place? Frantically, he pulled the crinkled parchment out of his robe pocket and examined it. 

**Albus Potter, Slytherin & Scorpius Malfoy, Ravenclaw. Saturdays 8:00-10:00 pm. Seventh Floor.**

He lingered about the corridor, pacing slowly for nearly ten minutes before resigning. Perhaps the Slytherin was off shagging some girl or messing around with his dorm mates and thought Scorpius enough of a pushover to simply complete their rounds on his own. As it were, he was that much of a pushover, so he pulled out his wand and begin casting revealing charms on the doors he passed, ensuring the rooms were empty. 

Halfway down the hall, he heard a cry behind him. “Oi, Malfoy!”

Scorpius stopped and turned to see a gorgeously disheveled Al running to catch up with him. His face was slightly pink and he was nearly out of breath, as if he’d run all the way from the dungeons. 

“Sorry mate,” he panted, grinning at Scorpius broadly. “Got caught up.”

“You seem to have a wayward relationship with punctuality,” Scorpius drawled in annoyance. He winced inwardly when he realized how much like his father he sounded.

The smile on Albus’ face fell instantly, and he turned a deep scarlet. “Right. Sorry again. Found a first year stuck in the staircase. Bloody Gryffindors, right?”

Guilt washed over Scorpius immediately. He was never so curt, and he had no idea what had brought it on so suddenly. It wasn’t Albus’ fault that Scorpius sort of fancied him and was secretly hoping the two would have a fun night together. 

“S’alright,” he said, smiling as brightly as he could manage to make up for his previous attitude. “Rosie ditches me a lot to study so I guess I’ve become a bit jaded.”

Albus’s grin lit up his face again and he chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Have you caught anyone out of bounds yet?”

“Not yet,” Scorpius replied, relieved that Albus had taken his snippiness in stride. “But it’s still early in the term. I suspect we’ll have an uneventful evening.” 

The first few weeks of a new school year were usually easier as most kids had been away from their dorm mates long enough to be content in their common rooms; catching up on their holidays and sipping smuggled Firewhisky. However, after a few weeks the more rambunctious children would grow bored and take to the corridors in search of an adventure. 

“I think you might be right,” Albus remarked mischievously. The sound made Scorpius’ toes curl in his leather loathers. “No one’s going to be out tonight. Let’s do something fun.” 

“Fun?” Scorpius eyed the other boy anxiously. He had no idea what sort of sordid things Potter considered _fun_. Yet, in that moment, he knew that he would go along with whatever the other boy suggested because he was just that desperate to impress him. 

Albus laughed heartily, eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. “Nothing nefarious, I promise.” He grabbed Scorpius lightly by the elbow and pulled him along until they came to a halt in from of an old, battered tapestry. 

“Just stand there,” he instructed, as if Scorpius were capable of doing anything else after being touched that way. 

Albus began to pace back and forth wordlessly, seemingly in deep concentration. After a moment, a large wooden door appeared out of nowhere. 

“It’s the Room of Hidden Things,” Scorpius exclaimed, enthusiastically. “My father told me all about it. But I thought it was destroyed by fiendfyre during the war.” 

“It was.” His chest puffed out proudly. “When I first found it, all I could summon was an empty room full of ash. So, I learned a few cleaning spells and I’ve been adding objects to it. Come see!” 

Albus pushed the door open and strode inside with Scorpius nervously on his heels. 

“Wicked,” Scorpius gasped when he saw it. It was small, only about a quarter of the size of his dormitory, complete with a battered sofa, hearth, a roaring fire, and some sort of antique contraption with large metal wheels. 

“It is, isn’t it? The more things I bring in, the more the room seems to produce.”

“It’s certainly cozy,” Scorpius remarked. “So, what do you do here? Read? Study?” 

Albus laughed and shook his head. “ _Study?_ Why? I could do that anywhere in the castle. No, I usually watch films. Sometimes with my mates, but mostly just me.”

“Films?” He inwardly cursed himself for being so out of the loop. He’d never been hip to the types of hobbies that cool kids like Albus partook in. 

Albus simply laughed again in an endearing way and walked to the strange metal object. “Movies. Like Muggles watch on the telly.” 

“Telly?” This he had heard of. A glass box that Muggles used to watch moving pictures. “We learned about them in Muggle Studies… but they don’t work at Hogwarts. And…,” he glanced around the room “I don’t see one here.”

“Right you are, Scorp.” His skin grew hot at the impromptu nickname. Fortunately, Albus wasn’t paying attention. He was now hunched over a large box he’d pulled from beneath the sofa, pulling out cylindrical silver tins. “A shame really. I had to get creative. The projector,” he gestured flippantly to the metal contraption “Muggles used it before the telly was invented. It works in a similar way, but the technology isn’t as advanced, so my Grampa and I were able to tinker with it to make it work here.” 

“Wow,” Scorpius breathed, impressed at the level of magic that must have taken. 

“It took us ages. We tested hundreds of spells. Found it,” Albus exclaimed triumphantly, holding up a tin that looked exactly like the dozens of others he’d pulled from the box.

“Found what,” he asked stupidly. 

Albus grinned in a manner that shouldn’t be allowed, given how gorgeous it was. 

“I’m willing to bet you’ve never watched a film before.” 

Scorpius nodded sheepishly. 

“Your first film should be a great one. I have just the thing. Sit.” He began tinkering with the projector, while Scorpius moved awkwardly to the couch. For a moment, he considered the possibility that he was being pranked. The couch was pointed toward a blank wall and Merlin knew Albus and his friends were infamous practical jokesters. 

Then, as if magically, an image of a sunrise appeared on the wall before him, accompanied by loud tribal sounding music. It was Sub-Saharan Africa, with rhinoceros, meerkats, and cheetahs; but it looked wrong. Unreal. 

_‘Animation,’_ he recalled, astounded. Moving artwork.

He was so mesmerized, that he hardly registered when Albus flicked the lights off and sat down beside him. That is, until he turned to ask _why on earth would a lion embrace a baboon_ and realized that not only was the other boy sitting much closer to him than polite company usually allowed, he had been watching him intently. 

Albus blushed and ducked his head, causing Scorpius to flush fiercely in return, heart pounding in his ears. _What was going on?_

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” Albus said quietly, in a tone completely foreign to his usual, confident, cheeky inflection. “Your face was kind of… funny.”

“That’s okay,” he replied hastily, unsure if that was meant as a compliment or an insult. But Albus didn’t look like he was disparaging him. If fact, he looked… genuinely _mortified?_ But it couldn’t be, embarrassment wasn’t an emotion that he associated with Albus. 

“Do you like the movie?” Albus asked, directing his gaze back to the picture before him. The monkey was now holding a lion cub up proudly while the gathered animals jumped and saluted enthusiastically. _Why would a zebra be excited about a lion cub? Don’t lions eat zebras?_

“Honestly, I don’t really understand it,” Scorpius admitted. 

Albus breathed out a strained sounding chortle, leaning back to fiddle with the machine, causing the picture before them to still. “I guess it wouldn’t make much sense if you don’t know a lot about cartoons. It’s my favorite movie. It’s old, a classic. But if it’s too lame we could go back to our rounds.” 

“No! I want to watch it,” Scorpius cried, fervently. “It’s fascinating.”

It wasn’t a lie, though it wasn’t entirely true, either. Flashing images of animated animals sounded rather dull. However, the prospect of spending an evening doing something, anything other than revising or prefect rounds, was too appealing to pass up. 

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Albus chuckled timidly. “How about we watch it and if you still don’t understand something, I’ll explain it to you after?” 

“I think I can handle that,” Scorpius replied.

“Good, because it isn’t proper etiquette to prattle on during movies,” Albus joked, eyes now bright and excited, the moment of bashfulness gone so fast Scorpius wondered if he’d imagined it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Scorpius, as the other boy resumed the picture. Now feeling a bit more at ease, as he allowed himself to settle more comfortably into the sofa. 

The movie was the weirdest thing Scorpius had ever seen. To start, non-magical creatures didn't speak, as far as he knew. And yet, the animals were conversing like humans. They also didn’t act at all like Scorpius understood animals to behave in the wild. The landscape was all wrong, realistic dietary needs went unmet, and time seemed to jump in curious ways. 

However, looking past the logical inconsistencies, he could see why Albus was so fond of it. It was whimsical, funny at times but sad and dark at others. The songs were catchy and spirited, and the parallels that were drawn from historical monarchies and dictatorships were surprisingly fascinating. 

Overall, he decided he quite liked it. Though perhaps not as much as he liked sitting so close to Al, alone in a dark room. This night was sure to be the feature of his wank fantasies for months to come. 

Once it was over, and list of names began to scroll down the wall, Al returned the lights with a flick of his wand and turned to Scorpius hopefully. “What did you think?” 

“It was incredible,” he answered honestly. 

The other boys face broke into a wide grin. “You really think so? The guys rib me something awful for liking it so much. They only like the action films like Bond and Jaws. I bet you would like Star Wars. You’re named after a constellation.”

Scorpius had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the other boys joyful rambling because, _oh my gods_ , Albus was a massive geek! And it was probably the most adorable thing he had ever witnessed. 

“The Lion King is a great movie but there is so much more,” he continued eagerly. “I’ve seen about a hundred and I’ve barley scratched the surface of what’s out there. Oh, and wait until you’ve seen one in a cinema! It’s brill—" 

Albus paused mid-sentence, turning a deep shade of magenta, and averting his eyes to the floor. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I get a little… passionate.”

“That’s okay,” Scorpius hastened. “I like it. I mean, it’s really cool that you’ve done all this.” 

“Thanks,” the other boy muttered, suddenly shy again. “We could do this again if you want to.”

Was Albus…? No, certainly not. The boy just being polite. His delusional mind needed to calm the hell down, or he was going to make a complete arse of himself and scare Al away for good. 

“That sounds fun,” he replied lamely. 

“Brilliant!” Albus stood abruptly, all cheeky smiles and confidence and once again Scorpius wasn’t sure if the shy, dorky Al was real, or just a figment of his imagination. “See you around, Malfoy.” 

Before Scorpius could respond the other boy was gone. So, he shuffled to his feet and exited the room, the door disappearing behind him. 

By the time he arrived at Ravenclaw tower he knew that he was completely and utterly screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Albus sending so many mixed signals to poor Scorpius? Does he even realize he's doing it? Stay tuned! 
> 
> Also, come engage with me on Tumblr if you feel like it. www.tumblr.com/blog/shipperysails


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to australianslytherin for their comment that inspired me to get off my butt and get to work on this. And also to nerdherderette who edited it for me. I truly LOVE this community.

**Albus**

_What. In the bloody hell. Was that?_ Albus thought as he slowly made his way to the dungeons in a ruminative daze. _What had he been thinking?_

Briefly, he considered turning around to pay Poppy a visit in the infirmary. Because there was clearly something very, _very_ wrong with him. However, he doubted the old bird would see ‘flirting with Scorpius Malfoy’ as life-threatening as he did.

As a credit to his sanity, he acknowledged that he hadn’t _technically_ flirted. Yet he had allowed himself to become far too comfortable with the other boy, in much too short a time. He’d let his guard down; allowed himself to just _be_.

Even his friends and family rarely got to see him so relaxed, but something about Malfoy had brought it out of him. Albus didn’t like to think about exactly what that something was, because it was far too dangerous of an idea.

The evening had felt like… well, it felt like what Albus had always imagined a proper first date should feel like: attraction; a strong desire to impress; and a great, albeit slightly awkward, experience. And that, unfortunately, was the problem. Because it wasn’t a date, and those feelings had been entirely one-sided.

Malfoy was dating his cousin, for Merlin’s sake. There was no conceivable chance of the other boy being interested in him, and even if he were, Albus had chosen his path a long time ago. He was to become a celebrated Medical Potioneer. A success in his own right, separate from that of his family’s’ legacy. And he wasn’t… _couldn’t_ allow an attractive blond with a tempting smile to stand in the way of that.

God forbid anyone in the media catch wind of this indiscretion. The news that Harry Potter’s doppelgänger was not only gay but also interested in the Malfoy heir would dominate the news cycle for months, effectively ruining his future prospects.

No, he decided as he trudged up the stairs to his dormitory. This, whatever it was, would simply not do. All he needed was to find a way to control the situation before it went any further. Which should be easy. Albus was well-practised in controlling his urges.

Time and distance was key. He might not be able to completely avoid Malfoy, seeing as they had rounds and classes together. However, he could minimise the time he spent alone with the other boy and practise a little more restraint when the circumstances couldn’t be helped. 

With a new-found determination, he made it back to his dormitory where he found his mates mid-way through a rousing game of Exploding Snap. Amir was sporting an impressively transfigured pig nose, likely at the hands of Jordan who was a notoriously sore loser, and Joseph’s eyebrows were singed and smoky. Only Marc seemed to be unscathed; somehow, he always managed to avoid the line of fire when the others engaged in anything competitive.

None of the boys noticed him entering, so he leaned against the doorway silently, watching what was sure to be an entertaining scene. In a way, he craved the normalcy of it after having such a strange night with Scorpius. Fortunately, his friends didn’t disappoint.

“You’re cheating,” Jordan shouted, pointing his wand threateningly at Amir. “Your wand didn’t even touch the card!”

“Then why didn’t the cards explode?”

“You must have magicked them!”

“For Merlin’s sake, stop your bloody moaning,” Amir fired back, flicking his wand so that a thick strip of spello-tape covered the other boy’s mouth. “You sound like a whining, fucking fairy.”

Jordan blinked stupidly for a moment before barrelling over the small table between them and pouncing onto Amir, pounding him repeatedly in the chest. The boys scrambled on the floor for several minutes while Marc and Joseph laughed hysterically, making no attempt to pull them apart.

Albus simply watched, suddenly less amused by his friends’ banter. It wasn’t that their words bothered him much. He was used to them—had heard them all, and even used them himself from time to time: shirt lifter, flower, pansy, Nancy, bent, poofter, _fairy_. But for some reason, he’d always felt detached from them. As if they didn’t apply to him. However, in that moment, it felt like a slap in the face.

It wasn’t until Amir managed to gain the upper hand and punch Jordan directly on his tape-covered mouth did Albus intervene, casting a spell that sent the two flying through the air before landing with a thud on their respective beds.

“Oi! What the hell, Al?” Amir exclaimed, looking absolutely ridiculous with his hair mussed and his left eye slightly swollen, still sporting a pig snout.

“Nice one, Albus,” said Marc, who was still laughing heartily. “It’s probably a good thing you came in when you did. I wasn’t about to try to separate these two berks.”

“He started it,” Jordan accused as he summoned a bowl of water and a cloth and began mopping up the blood on his face. “Tosser jinxed me.”

“You jinxed me first,” Amir cried, gesturing wildly to his snout. “And you’d better put it back right!”

“Will you two shut up?” said Albus, shaking his head. “Minnie is going to lose her hair if she finds out you two were up here thrashing around like a couple of plonkers over a game of Snap.” With two quick flicks of his wand he healed Jordan’s busted lip and returned Amir’s nose to normal. “There.”

Rather than be grateful, Amir scowled at him. “Gonna tell on us then, _Mr._ Head Boy?”

“Piss off, Amir,” Joseph chided. “When has Al ever told on you for being a prick?”

Amir didn’t respond. Grumbling to himself angrily, he pulled the curtains around his bed violently. Jordan did the same as Marc and Joseph began putting away the game.

Albus simply shrugged and began to change out of his robes and into his pyjamas. He wasn’t worried about his mates being angry with him. Fights like this weren’t entirely uncommon when you shared a room with four other blokes. Tomorrow, Amir and Jordan would be joking and carrying on as if nothing had happened. It was a testament to the strength of their friendship that they were able to put petty rows aside so easily.

“Where have you been anyway? Your rounds ended over an hour ago,” Joseph asked.

“Er… I just spent some time in the Room of Requirement watching a Muggle film.”

“And you didn’t invite us along? Sneaking around with some trollop already?” Joe snickered but Marc didn’t; he simply regarded him with a neutral expression.

“You had rounds with Malfoy tonight, right?” he asked evenly. “Did you show him the room?”

“Nah, I blew him off. Needed some time to myself,” Albus lied, dragging his hand through his hair nervously. It wasn’t as though admitting he’d invited Malfoy to the Room of Requirement would ring alarm bells in his friends’ minds. But given how Marc’s suspicions seemed to be rising of late, he didn’t fancy giving him any more reason to question himself.

Joseph laughed, blissfully as oblivious as ever. “One day into term and you’re already skiving off on your duties. That’s got to be some sort of record. Who decided to make you Head Boy? They mustn’t have had many options.”

Albus laughed too. “Mum reckons they hoped it would tame me a bit. And maybe you all as well.”

“Fat chance of that,” Joseph quipped. “Let’s sneak into the kitchens. You know the elves miss us.”

**Scorpius**

“You’re acting strange.”

Scorpius looked up from his plate of fried tomatoes and sausage to peer sleepily at Rose, who was regarding him curiously. The book she’d brought to breakfast lay unopened.

“What makes you say that?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.

She quirked an eyebrow, eyeing him inquisitively for a moment. “Well…” she began, frowning. “To start, you look dead tired. Like you didn’t sleep at all last night. And you’ve hardly said two words all morning. I know you, Scor, you’re only this quiet when you have something on your mind. Spill.”

In truth, he had tossed and turned for hours the previous night, over-analysing every word Albus had said that night, every mannerism and expression. When he finally had managed to fall into a restless sleep, he awoke only a few hours later from a dream that he couldn’t remember, but had definitely featured the other boy.

Scorpius sighed deeply, dropping his fork onto his plate. He wasn’t hungry, so he might as well get this over with. Rose would draw it out of him eventually, anyway. “It’s nothing, really,” he began. “I just had a sort of weird evening with Albus.”

“Albus?” Rose’s frown grew deeper. “Albus Potter?”

“Er—yeah.” He paused briefly, unsure how to articulate his thoughts. He ran his hand through his hair anxiously and pressed forward. “We had rounds last night, and he behaved… bizarrely.”

Rose’s expression flashed immediately from one of mild curiosity to one of intense anger so fast it nearly gave Scorpius whiplash. “If that git of a cousin of mine was a prick to you tell me right now! I’ll hex him into next week, so help me.”

Chuckling, he shook his head and covered the girl’s hand with his own to stop her from snatching her wand. “No, no. It’s nothing like that,” he clarified. “It was just… strange. He wanted to blow off rounds to watch a film an—”

“Oh, _that_ rubbish.” Rose rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand gently before pulling it away. “He and Grandpa are obsessed with Muggle films. It’s all they talk about on holidays. Did you leave to complete rounds on your own?”

Scorpius ducked his head, a blush stinging his cheeks. “Well. I mean… I was curious.”

Her mouth dropped open at his admission. “You did it? Honestly Scor, you are incorrigible.”

“Come on! It was one night,” he defended hotly. “Wind down.”

“Don’t tell me to wind down, Scorpius,” she demanded indignantly. “We both know you blowing off rounds isn’t the problem. The problem is that you fancy the pants off my idiot cousin and that’s why you wanted to do it.”

“I don’t!” Scorpius insisted.

Rose glared at him intently and he caved in immediately.

“Okay, fine! You win. I have a crush on him. What’s the big deal? I’ll get over it.”

“He’s an conceited, Slytherin jock.”

“Yes.”

“He’s a prick.”

“So you’ve said.”

“He isn’t even gay!”

It was as if the knife already buried in his gut had been twisted aggressively. 

“I know,” he whispered miserably. “And I know that he will never like me back. But I can’t help it. There’s just… something about him.”

Her expression softened at his defeated tone. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Don’t apologise; you’re right.” He managed to laugh weakly. “The way he acted… it was almost like… like he liked me, and I let my imagination get the better of me.”

Rose shuffled in her seat, with an expression that Scorpius couldn’t quite identify. “What is it that you like about him anyway? He just doesn’t seem like he would be your type.”

“He’s the fittest bloke in school, Rosie,” he said with a shrug. “He’s everyone’s type.”

“Gross.” Rose smiled and poked him in the ribs playfully. “Come on. Let’s get to class and get that pretty mind of yours on something productive.”

**Albus**

Disappointment bubbled uncomfortably in Albus’s stomach as he watched the interaction between Scorpius and Rose from across the hall. They sat apart from their classmates and whispered, touching occasionally. Their closeness was evident, even from this distance.

Then, out of nowhere, their demeanors changed. Were they arguing? Something inside him began to cheer: _They aren’t even happy; you still have a chance._

Fortunately for Albus, that voice was kicked down where it belonged only a moment later when Rose poked her boyfriend playfully and the fond smile returned to Scorpius’s face.

Suddenly the disappointment was replaced by anger. Anger that he allowed Scorpius to affect him at all. Because whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, something about the night before had sparked a flutter of hope deep inside him. A single, tiny flame of promise that was now being extinguished by the painful reality that wanting something bad enough didn’t always guarantee that you’d have it.

Not that he wanted it. He _didn’t want it_. At all.

With a bitter sense of determination, Al stood and marched directly over to the Hufflepuff table where the Head Girl Angela and her friends were seated.

“Good morning,” he said in greeting, forcing an easy, suggestive smile. A few of the girls giggled immaturely behind their hands, but to her credit, Angela simply smiled back politely.

“Good morning, Al,” she replied in a too-sweet, sing-song voice.

Albus ran his hand through his hair, feigning nervousness. He’d done this enough to know that when asking a girl out, you had to at least pretend you cared about the answer.

“Would you like to go for a walk around the lake after classes?”

Angela blushed lightly, and the familiar guilt that he always felt when pursuing a girl began to set in.

“Did you have something to discuss with me pertaining to our duties?” she asked, clearly hoping that was not the case but needing to be sure.

“I think we get enough of that at the prefect meetings. Don’t you?” Angela’s cheeks grew darker, and Albus couldn’t help but notice that she really was quite pretty. If he couldn’t bring himself to truly like a girl like Angela, he was doomed.

“In that case, I would love to,” she replied with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than I wanted it to be but more is coming soon. Hope you enjoyed it. If you did please comment/kudos/subscribe/come see me on Tumblr.


	5. Chapter Five

**Scorpius**

Ancient Runes would be Scorpius’s and Rosie’s first class of the year, and although they were both eager to spring into the thick of things, Scorpius secretly wished they could have started off the year with a more enjoyable class.

Despite being a stereotypical Ravenclaw in many ways, even he was forced to admit that the subject was exceedingly dull. Given his way, he would’ve dropped it after fifth year, considering its limited practical use. However Rose required it for her chosen profession, and though she’d never admit it, she didn’t care much for the subject either. Thus Scorpius had tagged along, telling himself that it was for emotional support, and not simply because he couldn’t tell her ‘no.’ 

As expected, the first lecture consisted primarily of the Professor rambling on about the importance of their N.E.W.T. examinations, adding that an O in Runes would look particularly good to potential employers considering how few students continued the course. 

“Couldn’t imagine why,” he mumbled irritably under his breath. 

The lecture continued for another twenty minutes or so before the Professor instructed the students to utilise the remainder of the class to begin reading the first chapter of the assigned text. Rose being… well, Rose, opened her book immediately and began re-reading the first passage. 

Scorpius, unlike his best mate, found it difficult to read the same source material over and over again, so he opted to doodle on a scrap of old parchment instead, allowing his mind to wander. 

Perhaps he would write his mum and dad, to let them know how his first few days were going. Not much had happened, but he knew they would appreciate the owl nonetheless. Or he’d look over Rose’s reading list tonight; it couldn’t hurt to—

_“You’re kidding!”_

Scorpius’s ears perked up at the excited whispers coming from a pair of Slytherin girls seated at the table directly behind them. 

_“I’m not. I saw the whole thing.”_

Never much for gossip but too bored to resist, Scorpius leaned back in his chair to listen. Even something as mundane as a courtyard scuffle or a student who was caught cheating would be more interesting than reading in that moment. 

_“When?”_

_“He walked right up at breakfast and asked her.”_

Scorpius groaned inwardly. The thought of some random bloke asking a random girl out was even less interesting than Klavan’s Advanced Interpretation Techniques. Still, he listened, having nothing better to do.

_“I wouldn’t have guessed it, but I suppose it’s not that far out of the realm of possibility. She’s quite pretty.”_

_“I suppose she isn’t so bad, for a Hufflepuff. But the Head boy dating the Head Girl? It’s so cliché.”_

Scorpius’s heart sank, overcome with burning jealousy and subsequent guilt. Albus had asked out Angela and instead of being happy for his new—sort of—friend, Scorpius could only feel a flush of bitterness and resentment. 

Unable to listen anymore, Scorpius pushed his chair back to its original position, making a mental commitment to congratulate the other boy the next time they had rounds together. _This is a good thing, after all,_ he told himself. Perhaps seeing Albus with a girl would be enough to squash this silly crush and allow him to fully accept the impossibility of ever having a chance with him. 

“Are you okay?” Rose whispered. She didn’t look up from her book, but Scorpius could see the tension in her shoulders, the pity on her turned-down face.

Scorpius bit his lip hard and nodded. “Like you said, Rosie… It’s just a boy.” 

**Albus**

The news that Albus Potter had asked Head Girl Angela Perkins out for a stroll became the talk of the school by lunch time. 

That, of course, had been the whole point—to deflect suspicion, yet it annoyed Albus immensely nonetheless. Maybe if people weren’t so hyper-focused on his love life, he wouldn’t have needed to resort to such distasteful tactics in the first place. Perhaps if the herd weren’t so intrigued by the personal lives of the Potter children, he could ask someone out that he really liked, without the fear of compromising his entire future. 

That was what this was all for, though, he reminded himself as a group of Gryffindor girls in Charms gossiped excitedly, not bothering to lower their voices. He had to protect his future at all costs. 

If only he were more like James. His elder brother was everything the Wizarding World wanted from a Potter. Handsome, charming, funny, and _‘the most talented new recruit to the MLE in a decade’,_ James was a media darling who rarely went a fortnight without appearing in the Prophet, hand in hand with his beautiful fiancée. Trashy publications like Witch Weekly adored him, always speculating on when he would make an _‘honest woman’_ out of Maggie and create yet another generation of Potters, for them to scrutinize no doubt. 

Lily enjoyed the protection of being a Gryffindor like the rest of his family. The people favoured her for her whimsical fashion sense and charming, albeit a bit quirky, personality. They loved drawing parallels between Lily and her beloved namesake, something Albus was only _marginally_ bitter about. 

For his part, Albus had thus far managed to keep up fairly well. While James was praised for being the embodiment of what it meant to be a Potter, Albus incited curiosity for his differences: his sorting, his position on the house team, his lack of interest in becoming an Auror. _So like his father,_ and yet, _so intriguingly different._

It deemed Albus ‘The Other.’ Always praised, but with a question. Therefore, he had little doubt that should he step any further out of line, the media and the Wizarding World at large would turn their back on him in an instant. They’d done it to his father, and they would do it to him. The difference was that his dad had saved the world, and no matter how many times the _Prophet_ slammed him, he would always bounce back, having more people in his camp than out. 

“Hey, Al. Can I talk to you for a moment?” Marc asked hesitantly, drawing him from his self deprecating thoughts. 

“Um, sure,” he agreed, confused when his friend steered him into an empty classroom and locked the door behind them. 

Marc ran his hand through his hair nervously, seemingly unable to meet Albus’s eyes. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Albus asked, curious as to why his friend was so out of sorts. “You look a bit ill.” 

“Actually, I was going to ask you the same. You’ve been quiet all morning.”

Was he fidgeting? Albus swallowed down the lump forming in his throat and forced a cheeky smile. “I’m brilliant; just a bit nervous about my date tonight.” 

Marc nodded, though Albus didn’t miss the flash of doubt on his face and was surprised by how much it suddenly annoyed him. His friend had been far too inquisitive since they’d returned to school, and Al didn’t care for this new development in the least. 

“Looks like you’ve managed to get the whole school talking,” Marc remarked after a moment. “I’ll admit, I was little surprised. I thought you weren’t interested in her.”

“Er—well you know. I thought about what you said; she’s a nice girl,” Albus lied, resisting the urge to tell his friend to piss off and stop asking so many questions. It wasn’t his business who Albus decided to ask out. 

“She is,” Marc agreed, straightening his back and meeting Albus’s gaze, suddenly challenging. “But she isn’t your _type_ … you said it yourself.” 

“What do you care?” Albus shot back. “You’ve no right to have a go at me. You insisted that you didn’t like her.” 

“How _I_ feel about her is hardly the point,” Marc asserted fiercely, stepping closer. “The point is that she doesn’t deserve to be led on, then discarded like every other girl you _use._ ” Albus flinched at the words, shocked by Marc’s furor. “Tell me Al, how many do you plan on stringing along? How many hearts do you plan on breaking to keep your secret?” 

“Fuck you,” Albus shouted, pulling out his wand and pointing it directly at the other boy’s chest. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t I?” Marc challenged, completely unfazed by the threat of being blasted across the room by one of his best mates. “I saw your magazines when I visited over the summer.”

Albus froze, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to think of any excuse that might explain why he, a supposedly straight bloke, possessed a stack of magazines featuring naked men in various states of intercourse. Because the look Marc was giving him was far too contentious and knowing, like he was daring Albus to lie. 

“At first I’d thought maybe it was a joke; I know how your brother and cousins like to razz you. But you still have them in your trunk. What confirmed it, though, was the way you looked at him… _Malfoy._ ”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Albus managed feebly after a long moment of deafening silence, dropping his wand to his side in defeat. Marc wasn’t stupid; he knew, and there was little point in denying the truth. 

Marc sighed heavily and gripped Albus’s shoulder, all anger seemingly lost. “I love you like a brother, so I feel obligated to be honest with you right now. Because either you’re lying to me, or you’re lying to yourself.”

Albus didn’t respond. His shoulders sagged, eyes dropping to the floor. 

“You know it’s not that big of a deal if you’re gay, right?” Al flinched visibly at the use of the word. Marc must have taken that movement as a non-verbal confirmation because he continued with an attempt at reassurance. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “But you should. Ask Malfoy out if you like him. Be happy; there’s nothing stopping you other than yourself.”

“I can’t.” Albus blinked away the moisture that was accumulating in the corners of his eyes. There was no bloody way he was going to let himself cry. It was bad enough that his friend had worked out that he was queer, he wasn’t going to fall apart in front of him like some girl. “Scorpius likes my cousin, and the minute people start finding out that I’m…” He still couldn’t say it. “My life is over. Finished. I wish things were different, but I’ve made my peace with it.”

Marc frowned deeply, shaking his head as if Al’s words were the most unreasonable thing he’d ever heard. "Al—" 

“Don’t,” he said firmly, gathering his things and heading for the door. “You couldn’t possibly understand. I don’t need your advice, or your pity. Just forget about this… please.”

Not waiting for a response, Albus wrenched the door open with an unintended amount of force and practically ran to the Room of Requirement, thankful that the corridors were now mostly empty. 

There was no way he’d be able to soldier through the rest of his classes, no way he could face his friends and classmates in the state he was in—seconds away from crying, or screaming at the top of his lungs in exasperation. 

Fortunately, he made it to the room without succumbing to either temptation. Instead, he took a deep, cleansing breath the second he was safely behind the threshold, willing himself to relax. 

So what if Marc knew he liked boys? He was a right sort, always there for his mates. He’d said he wouldn’t tell, and Albus trusted that he would keep his promise. Nothing had to change. 

Composing himself, he decided to spend the afternoon watching one of his new films— _Superman _—and developing a new plan to move forward.__

____

____

It was only about an hour into the movie before Albus realized with more clarity than ever before, how much of an absolute prick he truly was. Clark Kent had secrets. Clark Kent withheld parts of himself from the world. Clark Kent sacrificed his happiness all the time, just like Al. But Superman hid himself to protect those he loved, to save the world. Albus misrepresented himself because he was too much of a coward to subject himself to ridicule and judgement. Not only that, he’d hurt several people along the way, treating them like chess pieces in a selfish game, designed to avoid suspicion. 

Suddenly, all the reasons, the excuses, felt feeble and unsustainable. Naive, even. 

Maybe things didn’t have to change. But he wasn’t sure he could continue to live contently with himself if they didn’t.


	6. Chapter Six

**Albus**

Loath as he was to admit it, Albus hadn’t gotten off to a very good start with his Head Boy responsibilities. Only four days into term and he’d already skipped rounds twice, missed two classes, and stood up the Head Girl. 

The latter didn’t have a direct impact on his duties, however there was no doubt it was going to make the job considerably more awkward. 

He decided the night before—after wallowing around the Room of Requirement until well past curfew—that he wouldn’t insult her intelligence with a flimsy excuse. He would be as upfront with her as he possibly could be and hope for the best; the best being that Angela wasn’t the type to make a scene. If she ripped him a new one in the Great Hall, well, he certainly deserved it. 

Talking to Angela was the first step in what Albus dubbed ‘Operation Get Your Bloody Shite Together’. Which wasn’t so much a plan as a resolution to take a few steps that might help him make a decision about what he wanted to do moving forward. So on Tuesday morning, Albus woke well before his dorm mates, showered and dressed at record speed, and made his way down to breakfast before the food had even appeared. 

To pass the time, he pulled out his potions book to get a head start on notes. According to the syllabus, the class would be starting the year off with Wolfsbane. Albus had been able to brew the classic version for nearly two years, so he planned on using the class time to practice a promising new variant that could potentially make the transformations less painful. Al planned to experiment with chopped valerian root, which could theoretically allow the werewolf to sleep through the entire transformation. 

“Still scribbling in the margins of your school books I see. Better not let Rose see that.”

With a jolt, Al looked up to see his sister Lily taking a seat across the table from him with a dreamy smile. 

“Morning, Lils,” he greeted her with relief. She was one of the only people he wasn’t apprehensive about seeing at that moment. “What are you doing up so early?” 

Lily managed something between a yawn and a sigh. “I promised Uncle Neville I would help him harvest Moonseed for Professor Marsh.” 

Albus frowned. “Surely you don’t need the extra credit,” he deadpanned. Lily was brilliant at Herbology. 

“No,” she replied, rubbing her tired eyes. The bright purple eyeshadow above her lids spread across her temple, making her look a bit like a clown. “But Mum’s been on me to try to figure out what I want to focus on after O.W.L.S., so she’s pushing me to do extracurricular work. She figured Herbology would be a good place to start because I like helping dad with the garden.” 

Albus felt a stab of unexpected sympathy for his sister. It couldn’t be easy for her, succeeding her elder brothers, both of whom had figured out what they wanted to do by fourth year. She’d never taken her studies quite as seriously as he or James. Lily only ever did what felt right, with a ‘live and let live’ approach.

For the first time, it occurred to him that out of everyone he knew, Lily was the most likely to be an ally should he choose to...

“Don’t stress yourself out too much, Lils. You’ve only just started fifth year,” he said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone. “You’ve plenty of time to figure it all out.” 

Lily winked, looking absolutely ridiculous with her smeared makeup and sleep crinkled hair. “I’m alright; just tired. And anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk about job prospects. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Marc said you were ill. That’s why you didn’t come to dinner last night?” 

“Right, er—stomach bug, I think,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm. So Marc had covered for him; of course he had. “I smuggled a Pepperup. Good as new.” 

“That’s good,” Lily said absently, distracted by the food that had just appeared before them. She quickly constructed a haphazard sandwich out of orange marmalade, sausage, and toast, and wrapped it in a napkin. Al grimaced, but didn’t comment. The fact that Lily had gross eating habits was well-established knowledge. Instead he sent a glamour charm at her from beneath the table, clearing the smudge and smoothing the hair sticking up on the side of her head. 

“See you later,” he said as she climbed out of the bench. 

Lily mumbled something unintelligible over a mouth full of food as she turned to leave, making her way out of the Great Hall. 

As soon as she disappeared around the corner, a group of Hufflepuff girls entered the Hall. Albus’s stomach dropped when he recognized Angela among them, laughing easily at something one of her friends had said. 

He watched her, frozen in nervous trepidation as the girls made their way to their normal place at the Hufflepuff table and began filling their breakfast plates. 

After several seconds that felt like hours, Angela finally looked up and met his gaze. For a moment she appeared taken aback, as if she hadn’t expected to see him there. Then, much to his surprise, she smiled. 

Turning to her friends, she said something that Albus couldn’t quite make out and stood, walking over to him with the same sweet smile on her face. 

Albus’s heart began to pound in his chest. He’d been expecting her to yell at him, ignore him, or at the very least, send a few nasty glances his way. Yet she didn’t seem the least bit peeved at having been ditched. 

“Good morning,” she remarked, taking the seat across from him that Lily had abandoned. “How are you? Marc told me you weren’t feeling well.” 

Albus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then sighed heavily. “Marc lied.” The words flowed from his mouth involuntarily, like vomit. He clenched his hands on the bench and bit down on his tongue, preparing himself for an inevitable wave of fury, but it didn’t come. 

“Yeah. I suspected as much.” To his utter shock, Angela was still smiling, but now Albus could see something else in her expression, something strained. 

For the second time in as many days, Albus’s shoulders sagged in defeat and he was overwhelmed with a pathetic sense of self loathing and shame. Why couldn’t she just hex him? Take him down a peg or two like he deserved and be done with it? 

“Angela, I—"”

“I don’t need an apology, Al. Although I _would_ appreciate an explanation.” 

Albus looked up and flinched at the girl before him. Angela wasn’t weepy or emotional, as others had been when he’d found mundane reasons to dump them. She was staring back expectantly, as if to say _‘You’re not getting out of this’._ He suppressed a shudder; it was far too Ginny Potter-esque for his liking. 

“Could we… would you still like to take that walk with me?” he asked sheepishly. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn’t say it in the ever-crowding Hall. 

To his immense relief, Angela agreed. 

Neither spoke until they reached the lake and began walking along the beaten trail that circled the outer edges. With a pang, Albus noted how beautiful the lake was as the morning sunlight reflected off the surface of the water. A walk along the shore—hand in hand with someone he really liked as they talked and laughed, sending shy glances at one another along the way—would have a been a perfect first date.

“I’m sorry,” Albus blurted when the silence started to become overwhelming. “I know you said you didn’t need an apology, but you deserve one. It was really shitty of me to stand you up, whatever the reason.”

Angela nodded, biting her lip as if unsure how to respond. 

“Look it’s nothing you di—””

“What was the reason?” she asked, cutting him off from what was sure to be a pathetic rambling of reassurances. 

“I...” Albus sighed, hating how nervous and anxious he felt. It wasn’t like him at all, and he found himself longing for his usually confident, outgoing self. “I asked you out because… because it’s what people expect me to do.”

Angela stopped and placed a hand on his elbow, turning him around gently to face her. “I don’t understand,” she said frowning. “Who expects you to?” 

“Everyone,” he muttered. “The papers, my friends, my family. You’re exactly the type of girl they expect me to end up with: smart, pretty, kind… _Head Girl._ ” 

For a moment, Angela simply starred in stunned confusion. “I’m not sure I follow,” she said finally. “You asked me out because you thought people wanted you to, but you didn’t want to?”

“Something like that,” he conceded guiltily. “It was wrong. I know that now.” 

“Blimey, Al.” She exhaled slowly. “I… I suppose I should be offended. But to be honest, I’m just... perplexed? Why not ask a girl that you do like? Surely no one is going care if she’s not Head Girl, that’s silly.” 

Al chuckled bitterly. “There isn’t another girl that I like.”

Angela sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, suddenly exasperated. “Then why ask anyone out at all? You’re seventeen, no one's expecting you—” Angela stopped mid-sentence, eyes growing wide with comprehension. “Oh.”

“Right, so are we okay?” he half-shouted over the panic bubbling up in his gut. “Because I’m really excited about working with you this year and I don’t want it to be weird, you-” 

“Albus. Shut up and listen.”

Al clamped his mouth shut instantly. Angela was regarding him with the type of no-nonsense expression that would be more fitting of Headmistress McGonagall than a soft spoken, seventeen year-old girl. 

“First, you should know that you’re an unbelievably arrogant prat.” Albus cringed but nodded sheepishly nonetheless; she wasn’t _wrong_. “Second, you need to organise your priorities. I’ve known you long enough to know you aren’t a bad person; your kindness is a large part of the reason I liked you in the first place. But using people and their emotions as a way of shielding who you really are is… well, there isn’t any other way to put it, it’s fucked up.” 

“I know,” Albus admitted. A part of him desperately wanted to defend himself. He wanted to outline all of the reasons why. How he had no choice. How everything he’d done had been a means of self-preservation. How much he hated not being able to be himself. 

“However. That being said, I sort of get it.” 

“You do?” he asked timidly. 

Angela nodded, a small smile returning to her lips. “Of course. I mean, it’s going to take a lot of courage to face the media—they won’t really understand. Neither will the flock of devastated girls when they find out they don’t have a chance with Hogwarts' most _eligible bachelor._ ”

Albus felt himself smile despite his nerves. Angela was taking the piss, and although he still wasn’t very comfortable with her knowing his secret, it felt good to know that she didn’t hate him or think less of him for it. 

“The girls will be fine. What they don’t know can’t hurt them.” 

Angela cocked a questioning eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“Obviously I can’t tell anyone, Angi, they’ll eat me alive,” he explained seriously. 

The first period warning bell rang in the distance and both Albus and Angela turned on the path and began walking back toward the castle. 

“So what? You’re just going to live your life in the closet? That sounds miserable.” 

“It’s not so bad,” he defended. “I’ve managed well enough thus far. Although I admit, it’s gotten more difficult lately.” 

“Why’s that?” she asked. 

Albus didn’t answer immediately, unsure how much he wanted to disclose to the girl. She already knew enough to burn him, if she really wanted too. But at present, he still had some degree of deniability. With every added detail, that range became more narrow. 

However, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, the idea of having someone to confide in that wasn’t a close friend or family member seemed well worth the risk. 

“It’s harder now because there’s someone...” He breathed deeply, unable to continue. How could he explain that in the span of only a few days he’d fallen head over heels for a boy he barely knew, who also happened to be the son of his father’s childhood nemesis? His cousin’s boyfriend, who probably thought Albus had few screws loose in the head, if their one night together was anything to go by. “Sorry, I’m not ready to talk about it just yet.” 

Angela placed a comforting hand on his bicep and squeezed gently. “That’s alright; we’ve only got two minutes to get to Potions anyway. If you do want to talk though, I’m happy to listen. And if anyone asks, I’ll tell them we didn’t work out because you’re an awful kisser.” 

“Hey!” he exclaimed indignantly, as he and Angela crossed the threshold to the Entrance Hall. "I happen to be an excellent kisser."

Angela laughed. “I’m sure you are, Potter, but does _he_ know that?” 

 

**Scorpius**

There was a certain peace in subtle rejection, Scorpius thought solemnly as he watched Albus and his new girlfriend rush into Potions class, laughing merrily. 

Not that he was directly rejected, but something about knowing for certain that he had about as much of a chance with Albus as a flobberworm made it easier to process his feelings. At least he could take comfort in the details, which were fairly simple: Albus liked girls. 

In the abstract, it made sense to Scorpius. Girls, with their soft hair, smooth skin, and supple curves, were what most boys his age fantasised about. 

Scorpius was none of those things. His features were angular and sharp, his chest flat and muscular, his chin stubbled and his arms and legs were covered in light blonde hair. He didn’t look or feel like a girl, and there was no way to ignore the fact that his anatomy was entirely different from what guys like Albus imagined when they lay awake at night, pushing their hands below the waistband of their pants. 

Therefore it helped, if only marginally, to know that it had nothing to do with his personality, or lack thereof, that made him undesirable to Al. 

There was no logical reason to wallow around in self-pity over this fact. It just _was._ As normal as the rising and setting of the sun. 

Scorpius forced a smile as he collected the ingredients needed to begin the Wolfsbane potion. There was no reason to be sad or feel less than worthy, he reminded himself. It was foolish. And Scorpius wasn’t a foolish person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if your still liking this!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Albus**

Few things annoyed Albus more than being called _lucky._

Not because he didn’t think he wasn’t; he was well aware of the blessings in his life. 

However, it felt like an accusation whenever someone pointed it out. _Lucky_ implied that he didn’t have to work for anything that he had, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He studied hard, practiced harder, and spent ample time cultivating positive relationships with his friends and family (with the possible exception of his father, although that was neither here nor there).

At the moment though, he found himself thanking Merlin, Dumbledore, and even Saint Christopher for his good fortune. 

Two people, in as many days, had discovered his secret and neither one of them had used it against him. In fact, things remained blissfully normal after his separate, but equally terrifying encounters with Marc and Angela. 

The students at large readily accepted the Head Girl’s assertion that while she and Albus were still great friends, they weren't interested in rushing into a romantic relationship at present. _‘We’re both just too busy this year,’_ she’d said. Albus had agreed, unbelievably grateful for her support. 

As for Marc, he’d made it abundantly clear that their conversation on the matter was not over. He seemed to be content to put a pin in for now, in order to give Albus time to sort out his thoughts. Which he wasn’t anywhere close to accomplishing, as there was only so much internal dialog of _‘Should I? Shouldn’t I? No, I bloody well should not!’_ that a single person could mentally endure. 

Thankfully, there would be time for Albus to over analyze this existential crisis later. At the moment, he had more pressing matters; Quidditch. 

“I'm telling you mate, Goldwater is our girl.” Amir slung his Nova X series over his shoulder with an absent shrug as the two made their way down to the pitch to strategize for the upcoming keeper tryouts. “What’s the point of arranging so many different drills?” 

Albus sighed and shook his head enduringly. He’d been listening to the same, continuous argument from his friend all week. “I like her too Mir, but we have to see everyone. The drills allow us to observe a broader range of talent. It doesn’t matter how good someone is if they don’t have the stamina to keep up during a three hour match.”

“I bet she has excellent stamina,” Amir quipped, thrusting his hips into his Nova crudely. “Bet she can ride a broomstick for hours.” 

Albus laughed at the ridiculous display and whacked his mate around the head for good measure. “Can’t imagine why you’re single,” he teased. “The epitome of chivalry you are.” 

“Make no mistake Alby boy, these girls are gagging for it. I caught Jasmine Boyd giving me the glad eye just this morning.” 

Albus seriously doubted that, he’d heard Jasmine refer to Amir as ‘insufferable’ on at least three different occasions, nevertheless, he chose not to mention it. His friend often seemed to have grand illusions about how women perceived him, but he would grow out of it. Al was willing to bet that the first time a girl showed any real interest in Amir, he’d be grovelling at her feet. 

“Check it out!” Amir exclaimed suddenly, eyes bright with mirth. “That pillock Malfoy just ate sod!” 

Al jerked his head around at neck-breaking speed toward the direction that Amir was gesturing. Sure enough, Scorpius lay on the ground in a crumpled heap some eighty feet away, along the pathway to the owlery. 

He realized the safest option would be to feign amusement and continue down to the pitch with Amir. However, the sight of Scorpius feebly attempting to stand on shaking knees had him mounting his broom before he could think better of it. “I'll meet you at the pitch,” he shouted, not bothering to look back. “Prefect stuff.” 

He barely registered Amir’s irritated grumbling at Al’s blind obedience to the power structure before racing away. 

**Scorpius**

_Hapless? Unfortunate? Jinxed?_

Scorpius couldn’t decide which word best described his disastrous life as his body flew through the air and collided painfully with the dirt path below. 

Spitting the soil from his mouth, he struggled to stand momentarily before giving up and settling into a sitting position to assess the damage to his knee. It was busted alright, probably sprained, though mercifully, unbroken. Which meant he could patch it up easily as soon as he located his wand, that had apparently flown from his grip when he fell. 

He was in the process of fumbling through the thick grass when Al flew up and landed next to him gracefully. “Hey Scorp. You alright?” 

Resisting the urge to shout angrily to the Gods over the injustice of Albus _‘embodiment of perfection’_ Potter finding him on his arse for the second time in less than a week, Scorpius looked up, smiling feebly. “Yeah, fine. Er- rock in the path.” 

Al crouched in front of him with a genuine look of concern playing across his handsome face. “Here, let me,” he said gently before pulling his wand from his pocket and casting a rudimentary healing spell. Scorpius shivered as the magic washed over him, mending the scrape and reducing the ache to a gentle throbbing sensation.

“Thanks,” he murmured, hopelessly fighting to keep the humiliation off of his face. “I seem to be having trouble staying on my feet lately.” 

The corners of Albus’s mouth turned up in a playful grin as he stood and extended a hand. “I’ve got you.” Scorpius hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking the offered hand and letting the other boy pull him to his feet. He knew he shouldn’t enjoy the warmth of Albus’s palm against his own so much, but he couldn’t help himself; they fit together perfectly.

Scorpius clung on for a beat longer than necessary-because he was a obviously a glutton for punishment-before pulling away to awkwardly smooth the wrinkles out of his robes. He expected Al to turn back once he was on his feet, but he didn't. He stood there quietly until Scorpius could no longer avoid straightening up to meet his eye, still smiling broadly. 

“Thanks. Could you, er, summon my wand?” Scorpius asked timidly, because he realized that asking the earth to crack open and swallow him whole would likely fall on deaf ears. “I’m not sure where it landed.” 

“No need. Here it is,” said Albus with a smirk, bending down to pick it up from where it lay, only a few inches away from Scorpius’s foot. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen a wand like this.” Al straitened and twirled the crooked black and white hawthorn through his fingers in awe. “The bend is so wicked. Is this why you’re so talented with spellwork?” 

“The curve doesn’t make the wand more powerful,” Scorpius replied modestly, flushing at the subtle flattery. Albus clearly had a way of making people feel special. Which explained why he was so bloody popular. 

“No, I suppose that’s just you,” Albus remarked with a warm smile as he casually dropped Scorpius’s wand into the pocket of his robe. Scorpius fought the overwhelming desire to turn and flee, deciding that he really should follow his mother’s advice and socialize more. It couldn’t be healthy to misinterpret every kind remark he received from Albus as flirtatious. 

“I should be on my way,” he muttered, gesturing pathetically toward the owlery. 

“No problem,” said Albus, unperturbed. “What are you up to? Sending a letter this early into term?” 

“Mum worries if I don't.” Scorpius regretted the admission the moment it tumbled from his mouth. _Perfect. Now he knows I’m a nerdy clutz and a mummy's boy._

To his horror, Al seemed to know what he was thinking because he chuckled lightly and clasped Scorpius’s shoulder affectionately. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve got a mum too. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.” 

“Um, sure.” A part of him desperately wanted to decline, so that he could suffer his humiliation alone. But he didn’t have it in him to be rude and; well, he was curious to know why the fit Captain wanted to walk with him to the owlery rather than hurry off to practice. 

“Do you have your own owl?” Albus asked conversationally, as they turned to continue down the trail. 

“Yes,” Scorpius replied with some relief. He could handle small talk. “A barn owl. His name is Woody. My pa-” 

“Woody?” Al choked out amongst a fresh bout of giggles. “Is it because he has a _hard_ beak?” 

“Hey!” Scorpius laughed too and nudged Al’s shoulder with his own playfully. “I was eleven and his feathers were the color of tree bark. My father tried to talk me out of it at the time. It was years before I figured out why.” 

“That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard!” Albus exclaimed, turning to smile at him with what could only be described as fond amusement. Scorpius nearly swallowed his own tongue. 

“My dad decided to start raising chickens a few years ago,” the other boy continued, as though he hadn’t just caused Scorpius’s hopelessly gay heart to fly out of his chest. “My brother James wanted to name the rooster Pecker, for obvious reasons. Dad wouldn’t have it of course, said it was childish and crude. So he let Lils pick the name _Twinkle_. The jokes on him, though, because now everyone just calls him _Winkle._ ” 

Scorpius burst into a fit of giggles of his own, that had as much to do with that ridiculous story as it did the absurdity of his current situation. The fittest bloke in school had just called him adorable and followed up with making a dick joke… _a sodding dick joke!_ It didn’t mean anything of course, not to Albus anyway, but the irony was entirely too much. 

“Come off it, mate. It’s not _that_ funny,” Albus said, although he was clearly pleased with himself at having received such an enthusiastic response. “I’ll show you quality comedy. Have you ever heard of Monty Python?”

Scorpius shook his head, unsure if this was yet another phallus pun, but definitely not wanting to make that leap, least he be wrong and mortify himself into an early grave. So he settled with, “Um-to be honest I’m not very fond of snakes.” 

Albus snickered, eyes crinkling at the corners adorably. “Don’t worry. There are no actual pythons - of _any_ kind,” he emphasized with teasing wink. “So, Saturday?”

“Er, yeah, Saturday's good," Scorpius managed to utter, whilst trying to wrestle his mouth into something more appropriate than the face-splitting grin it wanted to assume.

**Albus**

In all likelihood, inviting Scorpius to the Room of Requirement again wasn’t Albus’s brightest idea. But the sound of Scorpius’s raucous laughter had been so endearing that the words slipped from his mouth of their own accord, before he could think better of it. 

In fact, fulsome praise, uncontrollable flirtation, and unintended invitations were starting to become the norm whenever Albus found himself in Scorpius’s vibrant presence. 

There was no longer any doubt that Albus had feelings for him. They’d developed fast, and completely out of the blue, but that fact didn’t seem to matter much to his pining slag of a heart. If he couldn’t ignore it or fight it, his only choice was to find a way to live with it. 

Maybe, if he were really _lucky,_ Scorpius would turn out to be a gigantic tosser and his problem would solve itself. 

**Rose**

Despite popular opinion, there was more to Rose Granger-Weasley than scholastics and a moderate case of narcissism. Yes, she tended to be ferocious about academics, which occasionally led to self-absorbed behavior, however, that didn’t mean she didn’t care about the people around her. 

Specifically, Scorpius, who was everything to Rose. He was her best friend, her confidant, and the only person that had ever truly understood her. Caring for him was the most natural feeling in the world; so was the overwhelming desire to protect him. 

Which is why she was still here, on the fifth floor, waiting for her idiot cousin Albus, who was now ten minutes late to conduct rounds. 

Typically, if Rose saw the opportunity to skip out on her Prefect duties she took it readily, having only ever desired the title for her curriculum vitae. But this was likely to be her only opportunity to speak with Al uninterrupted, which she was resolved to do since Scor let slip—with a failed attempt at nonchalance, betrayed by the pink tinge in his cheeks—that he and Albus would be hanging out again the following evening. 

Scorpius’s feelings for Albus were glaringly evident, and although she’d never admit it to him, she could see why. Albus was charming; he always had been. Even when they were kids he often managed to talk his way out of chores, or into extra pudding, with next to no effort. The family adored him for his strategic complements and dazzling smile; a smile that he’d apparently turned on her best mate, and she was determined to find out why. 

Despite herself, she couldn’t shake the words that Scorpius had spoken earlier in the week; _“The way he acted… it was almost like… like he liked me, and I let my imagination get the better of me.”_

That alone might not have been enough to pique her suspicions, however the number of poorly concealed glances from the Slytherin table in the last few days certainly were. It wasn’t just Albus either. She also observed his odd, quiet friend—Mike or something—sneaking peeks as well. 

Scorpius may have assumed it was his imagination, but Rose knew better. Albus didn’t bother turning on the charm, or spying on innocent Ravenclaws, unless he had something to gain from it. Which could only mean that he was up to something. 

“Are you incapable of arriving on time?” she drawled, as Albus rounded the corner—his unruly black curls somehow messier than they normally were. 

“I like to keep you in anticipation,” he joked, grinning like a cocky git. The prat had probably just fallen out of a broom closet with Perkins; whom he may or may not be dating. Rose didn’t know, and certainly couldn’t be arsed to care. 

“Whatever,” she responded flippantly, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get this over with. I have revisions.” 

Albus shook his head, bemused. “It’s less than a week into term. Take it easy. Ten minutes won’t be the difference between an O or a T on your Transfiguration N.E.W.T.”

As tempted as she was to hex the wanker and leave him on the floor until someone came along to help, now wasn’t the time. Feigning a blasé expression, she chose her next words carefully. “Unlike you, I take my school work seriously. I prefer to spend my evenings studying rather than lying about the Room of Requirement, watching Muggle films and Dumbledore knows what else.”

Albus didn’t flinch at the accusatory tone of her voice, but he did sound somewhat nervous when he asked, “Malfoy told you about that, did he?” 

Rose scowled. “He mentioned it. Apparently he thinks it’s cool, although I can’t understand why.” 

Albus smiled in a discreet sort of way before scoffing, and turning down the hall with his wand out. “Oh come off it Rosie, it’s called _fun_. You should try it sometime.” 

“I have fun!” she defended hotly, following a few steps behind. She was used to people calling her dull—her own dad hinted at it frequently—but that didn’t make it any less irritating. Learning was exhilarating and it wasn’t Rose’s fault that some people were too thick to understand that. 

“Sure you do. Spending all of your time with your nose crammed into a book sounds like a riot,” he retorted sarcastically, an edge of temper rising in his voice. “Why do you care, anyway? Are you jealous because your boyfriend had a good time spending an evening doing something other than listen to you drone on about goblin wars?” 

Rose stopped dead; her irritation fading away into stunned confusion. There was no teasing or boyish conceit in that statement. Albus sounded bitter, and genuinely... _upset?_

“Wait,” she demanded, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from rushing ahead; the muscle under her fingers surprisingly tense. “What’s up with you?” 

Albus stopped, but didn’t turn back to look at her. “S’Nothing,” he mumbled, solemnly. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve had a long day.”

There was obviously something amiss, and a part of Rose wanted to inquire further, however she was under no illusions that she was still someone that her cousin was likely to confide in. He was probably eager to get back to his friends anyway, _and so was she._

“You can go, as soon as you tell me why you're suddenly interested in hanging out with Scorpius. I know you invited him to watch another film with you. If you’re planning something nefarious I—" 

Albus whipped around quickly, pushing her hand away and fixing her with a hard, glassy eyed stare. “I’m not _planning_ anything Rose,” he hissed defensively. “He’s a fun bloke. I like him. Is that so hard to believe?” 

Rose deadpanned. “Yes, it is. You haven’t shown the slightest bit of interest in him in the past six years. You don’t care about anyone except your insufferable group of friends. _I_ would know!” 

Albus faltered, deflating visibly. “Alright, Rosie,” he mumbled, shoulders sagging in defeat. Even without Al’s crestfallen expression, Rose would have felt guilty for drawing a comparison between her and Al’s own falling out. It wasn’t entirely fair. “I’ll stay away from him, if that’s what you want.” 

“Um… okay good,” she accepted, surprised by how quickly he conceded. “Right. Thanks… I guess.” 

Albus chuckled, though it was weak and completely devoid of humor. “I don’t blame you for being protective. I would be too if...” He paused, a sorrowful grimace playing across his features. “You don’t have to worry, okay?” 

Despite her resolve, Rose softened. Whatever was bothering Albus was clearly troubling him deeply. Enough that he seemed to have dropped his mask of pretentious confidence, if only momentarily. 

“There’s no agenda?”

“Hand to Merlin,” Albus replied with a weary smile. “I know I’ve been a lousy cousin over the past few years, but I wouldn’t do that you, Rosie Posie. Malfoy is important to you and if I’m being honest, I’ve grown quite partial to him myself. It’s easy to see why you two get on so well.” 

“Alright then,” Rose conferred sheepishly. She still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced Albus’s motives were pure, yet he’d never intentionally harmed her and he wasn’t likely to start now. “I’m sorry for… you know, _assuming_.” 

“That’s alright,” said Albus as he placed his hands in the pocket of his robes and fidgeted on the spot. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “I get it. No need to apologize. You two look good together by the way.”

Suddenly broken from the spell of despondence in the air, Rose nearly laughed out loud before stopping herself with a combination of a cough and a slightly painful hiccup. She’d only just realized that throughout the duration of their conversation, Al had been referring to Scorpius as her boyfriend. _Is that was people think?_ The notion was nothing short of laughable. “He’s wonderful. But you know we aren’t together right? Not in that way. Scor and I are just friends. He likes blokes, I thought everyone knew that.” 

Rose watched, as if in slow motion, as Albus’s eyes widened. In an instant, his entire demeanor changed. He tensed, then relaxed and tensed again in rapid succession. The sad, detached look turned into something that appeared—no, it couldn’t be— _hopeful?_

“I er—I may have heard… something about that,” he mumbled distractedly, now practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Doesn’t bother me. Blokes with other blokes. Girls that like other bints. This was a nice talk, yeah? We should do it more often. Later, Rosie.”

“Merlin,” Rose breathed as she stood rooted on the spot, watching Albus’s retreating figure disappear around the bend. 

Albus couldn’t possibly… He _wasn’t…_

Except that he definitely _was,_ obviously _did,_ and some part of Rose had already realized that. 

**Albus**

Albus rested his head against the cold stone wall just outside of the Slytherin common room and expelled a slow, calming breath. He’d run all the way there after his encounter with Rose and, now that he’d arrived, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to step inside. Jordan, Amir, and Joseph weren’t likely to notice his racing heart, clammy skin, and knotted gut. But he had no doubt that Marc would sense his disposition in an instant. 

With a hard swallow, he forced the rising bile down his throat and turned back toward the stairs that led out of the dungeons. If anything could steady his racing heart and mind, it would be a good drama flick and a few chilled shots of Ogden's best. 

Albus took the long way to the seventh floor, reminding himself repeatedly that this newfound information didn’t change anything. Just because Scorpius liked boys didn’t mean he would like _him._ Scorpius was kind, sweet, and leveled. He would prefer idiotically chivalrous Gryffindor boys who couldn’t distinguish well placed sarcasm from a Cornish Pixie’s arse. Or worse, annoyingly clingy Hufflepuffs reciting poetry lyrics as they chewed on sweetgrass, wearing mismatched socks… _probably._

Albus wasn’t any of those things. He was a brash, overly-charismatic, extroverted Slytherin. A Slytherin who didn’t hesitate before pushing his hand underneath the waistband of his too-tight pants as he collapsed on the couch in the Room of Requirement, squeezing hard at the image of Scorpius lying beneath him, eyes clouded with desire. 

Then, all too quickly, it was over. As the cum cooled in his palm, the emptiness set in. It wasn’t enough. This wasn’t one of the nameless, faceless boys he’s fantasised about in the past, who disappeared the moment the thrill subsided. This was Scorpius. The boy he so desperately wanted to hold... to kiss softly… to simply exist with for a while. 

Albus knew he should't care. He knew that he had no right to feel this way or to want Scorpius so badly. Especially since he couldn't pinpoint precisely why he'd become so fixated in the first place. 

The only thing he did know, with absolute certainty, was that he was in well over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a long time coming, I know. And while my self-depreciating heart is VERY tempted to tell you all about the things I'm unhappy about or wish I had done better, I'm not going to do that. Because to be honest... I'm proud that I finally got this out here. I like the chapter and the direction the fic is going. I hope the people still reading this like it too. I've gotten so much love on this fic and it's really warmed my heart so please share it if you have it. Or let me know how I can improve. I'm always open to constructive criticism. 
> 
> Shout out to Lim who basically held my hand through this chapter. They are so amazing and much more than I deserve.


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